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A  BUNCH 
OF  LITTLE  THIEVES 

By  DAVID  S.  GREENBERG 


With  an  Introduction  by 
PROFESSOR  FREDERICK  G.  BONSER, 

Teachers  College,  Columbia  University 


1 

fm 

Kounh  aiiiidthot  mtaf>- 
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wind  when  sullen 
ckod  -  Knells  all 
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tears  ore  uom  * 
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branches  slOin-Dcep 
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Illustrated  by 
WILLIAM  JACKSON  BROWNLOW 


THE  SHAKESPEARE  PRESS, 

114-116  East  28th  Street, 

New   York. 

1913. 


Copyright,  1913, 
By 

DAVID   S.   GREENBERG 


A   BUNCH    OF   LITTLE   THIEVES  iii 


INTRODUCTION 

The  story  of  the  "Bunch  of  Little  Thieves,"  is 
fiction,  but  it  is  apparent  that  the  author  has  broad 
personal  experience  with  the  conditions  in  reforma- 
tories. The  work  concerns  itself  largely  with  what 
can  be  done  to  bring  out  and  develop  the  latent 
"will  to  be  good,"  of  our  bad  boys,  who  are  shown 
to  be  victims  rather  than  enemies  of  society.  It 
portrays  the  possibilities  of  their  return  to  that 
society  as  members  whose  lives  may  be  a  satisfac- 
tion to  themselves,  and  a  benefit  to  the  race.  It 
shows  that  the  problem  of  securing  the  opportunity 
for  really  helpful  work  and  the  cooperation  of  the 
management  is  far  harder  than  that  of  securing  the 
response  and  cooperation  of  the  boys  themselves. 

But  what  the  author  strives  to  make  most  clear 
is  that  the  problem  of  the  bad  boy  is  not  apart  from 
the  problem  of  life  itself  and  all  that  that  implies, 
and  that  it  can  not  be  solved  by  those  who  do  not 
understand  the  desires  and  aspirations  of  the  human 
race.  Behind  the  boy  are  the  poverty  and  misery  of 
the  degraded  home  and  the  widowed  mother;  behind 
are  the  inefficient  public  schools  which  rate  boys  in 
the  mass  and  have  no  respect  for  particular  apti- 
tudes, interests,  or  vocational  needs;  behind  are  the 
police  who  know  little  save  the  cold  de-humanizing 
law  of  overcoming  by  fear  and  physical  force;  be- 
hind are  the  dives,  graft,  and  the  vice  of  the  under- 
world; behind  are  tiie  greed  and  pelf  of  power  of  the 
political  sharks  who  live  upon  the  debauchery  of 
those  below  them  and  the  perfidy  of  those  above; 


llOolBi. 


iv  A   BUNCH    OF   LITTLE    THIEVES 

behind  are  the  wealth  and  arrogance  and  phar- 
isaism  of  those  who  control  vast  fortunes,  subvert 
laws  to  their  own  designs,  and  count  other  men  as 
but  so  much  fuel  to  the  fires  of  their  ambitions  and 
greed — system — system — system — de-humanized  in- 
stitutions where  the  individual  is  lost  in  the  mass, 
where  each  stratum  of  life  points  to  the  next  higher 
as  the  source  of  its  misfortunes  until  those  are 
reached  who  stand  highest  in  wealth  and  power  and 
authority  whose  only  reply  to  the  charge  is,  "and 
what  are  you  going  to  do  about  it?" 

The  overt  act  which  leads  to  commitment  to  a 
so-called  reformatory  institution  too  often  means 
but  the  real  beginning  of  training  for  a  criminal 
career  rather  than  the  end  of  it.  In  reformatories, 
whether  for  old  or  young,  the  program  for  correc- 
tion has  very  largely  been  based  upon  the  old  idea 
that  the  person  to  be  reformed  is  one  whose  very 
nature  is  depraved,  who  has  no  good  in  him,  and 
who  must  be  literally  trained  into  subservience  by 
the  application  of  physical  force  and  the  fear  of  its 
brutal  consequences.  A  man  is  often  chosen  as 
superintendent  or  instructor  or  foreman  in  such 
an  institution  because  of  proven  ability  as  a  success- 
ful master  of  men  by  strong  arm  methods.  The 
committed  boy  is  treated  as  a  confirmed  enemy  of 
society,  as  one  who  is  wholly  unresponsive  to  the 
appeals  of  human  sympathy  and  ideals.  No  pains 
is  spared  to  make  him  feel  this  attitude.  His  every 
act  is  treated  with  suspicion  and  distrust.  He  is 
spoken  to  and  of  as  a  little  thief,  a  little  tough,  or 
a  little  criminal.  The  regime  under  which  he  lives 
forces  him  into  a  cringing,  resentful  attitude,  and  he 
goes  out  a  confirmed  enemy  of  society,  becoming 


A   BUNCH    OF    LITTLE    THIEVES  v 

such  as  the  result  of  moody  reflections,  and  not  be- 
cause of  the  casual  conditions  of  the  environment 
which  often  accounts  for  his  commitment. 

Modern  thinkers,  actual  workers  in  the  reform 
movement,  have  discovered  that  the  natures  of  the 
greater  portion  of  juvenile  offenders  are  entirely  the 
same  as  those  of  other  children,  that  conditions  of 
environment,  social  and  economic,  are  largely  re- 
sponsible for  juvenile  delinquency,  that  the  substi- 
tution of  favorable  surroundings  for  unfavorable  are 
often  sufficient  to  remove  all  tendencies  to  criminal 
conduct,  and  that  juvenile  offenders  do  respond 
with  all  of  the  simple  and  virtuous  natures  of  the 
common,  adolescent  childhood  when  appealed  to  in 
a  truly  human  fashion.  All  of  these  discoveries  of 
the  present  century,  in  which  the  work  of  Judge 
Lindsey,  and  Jane  Addams  has  played  a  most  import- 
ant part,  have  not  yet  worked  their  influence  into 
the  management  of  most  of  our  reformatory  insti- 
tutions, because  institutional  management  and  con- 
trol have  been  reduced  to  a  system,  and,  unfortunate- 
ly, tliis  system  is  more  or  less  vitally  a  part  of  the 
system  which  lives  by  political  preferment.  To 
secure  change  means  long-continued,  painful, 
thankless  struggle.  It  means  not  only  the  educa- 
tion of  those  whose  ideas  and  ideals  must  be 
changed,  but  also  the  dislodging  of  forces  whose 
only  considerations  are  those  of  sinister  financial 
gain  or  advantage.  This  narrative  points  out  con- 
cretely the  difficulties  of  the  problem,  and  shows 
how  the  methods  of  machine  politics  may  efTectually 
check  or  prevent  reform,  even  when  well  begun. 

Surely,  the  boy  who  is  committed  must  be  re- 
deemed, but  there  must  be  no  tliouglit  of  stopping 


vi  A   BUNCH   OF   LITTLE   THIEVES 

until  the  great  social  injustices  which  are  respon- 
sible for  the  boy's  undoing  are  removed.  The  story 
of  the  "Bunch  of  Little  Thieves"  is  a  protest  against 
the  inefficiency  of  the  public  school  system  which 
stimulates  and  tolerates  truancy;  against  the  police 
system  with  its  laws  of  the  jungle;  against  the  sys- 
tem of  tolerance  and  encouragement  of  an  under- 
world by  a  callous  society,  indifferent  to  the  well- 
being  of  those  of  ill  favor;  and  against  a  great,  inert 
public  opinion,  right  in  intellect  and  feeling,  but 
dormant  because  of  the  inconvenience  of  action  and 
the  selfishness  of  its  personal  concerns. 

The  old  order  must  pass  away  as  surely  as  vir- 
tue is  eternal  and  vice  is  transient.  Every  appeal 
such  as  this,  founded  upon  facts,  must  have  its  in- 
fluence. Every  response  that  aids  in  the  more  hu- 
mane treatment  of  the  victims  of  an  undemocratic 
society  will  aid  in  drawing  attention  to  the  prob- 
lem as  a  whole  and  will  ultimately  have  its  influence 
in  the  broader  social  reform. 

Just  as  Michael  Roate's  potential  humanity  was 
finally  reached  and  surrounded  with  the  conditions 
for  its  development,  so  may  other  delinquents  of 
similar  types  be  reached  and  redeemed. 

May  it  be  the  mission  of  this  revelation  of  the 
true  nature  of  boyhood,  and  of  the  suffering  and 
abuse  to  which  it  is  subjected  by  the  crimes  com- 
mitted in  the  name  of  reform,  to  awaken  a  response 
which  will  reform  the  institutions  themselves,  and 
through  them  teach  the  reasonable  treatment  of  boy 
life  to  prevent  its  fall  as  well  as  redeem  it  when  it 

FREDERICK  G.  BONSER, 
Teachers  College,  Columbia  University. 


A   BUNCH    OF   LITTLE    THIEVES  vii 


PREFACE 

The  Army  of  Little  Criminals  the  world  over,  and 
eepecially  in  the  United  States,  has  increased  and  is 
increasing  to  such  an  extent  that  even  the  most  in- 
different among  us  is  becoming  alarmed.  Thou- 
sands of  children  are  daily  coming  to  the  Children's 
Courts  and  are  daily  being  sent  to  reformatories. 
Great  sums  of  money  are  being  spent  by  the  State 
and  by  private  individuals  in  building  and  maintain- 
ing such  institutions. 

A  great  number  of  reformatory  boys  are  com- 
mitted to  the  same  institution  a  number  of  times 
and,  when  old  enough,  are  sent  to  enlarge  the  popu- 
lation of  our  adult  prisons. 

These  facts  may  not  be  found  in  the  annual  re- 
ports of  many  of  our  reformatory  superintendents, 
but  it  is  hard  to  think  of  a  more  unreliable  source  of 
information.  The  author  of  a  reformatory  superin- 
tendent's annual  report,  vi^hether  it  is  the  superin- 
tendent himself,  or  the  man  who  writes  it  for  him, 
in  most  cases  tells  what  he  knows  should  be  told 
of  a  reformatory,  and  polishes  that  information  up 
with  unreliable  figures. 

Reformatories,  with  few  exceptions,  are  merely 
houses  of  detention,  where  a  boy  who  has  become 
unbearable  on  the  street  is  kept  for  a  period. 

Not  only  is  nothing  done  to  reform  the  bad  boy 
at  most  of  our  institutions;  but  often  a  boy  is  com- 
mitted for  a  minor  offense,  meets  and  becomes  a 
companion  of  more  criminally  experienced  inmates, 


viii        A   BUNGH    OF   LITTLE    THIEVES 

and  learns  the  "in's  and  out's"  of  criminality  which 
before  his  committal  were  unknown  to  him.  He  is 
sent  to  an  institution  where  he  meets  with  condi- 
tions which  are  possibly  worse,  surely  no  better, 
than  those  that  have  made  him  what  he  is;  is  dis- 
charged after  a  given  period,  which  is  alike  for  all 
ofTenders;  commits  another  crime,  perhaps  a  great- 
er one  than  the  first;  is  committed  again;  earns  a 
second  parole ;  commits  another  crime ;  and  is  final- 
ly sentenced  to  prison,  condemned  by  society  as  a 
born  criminal — incorrigible. 

A  few  months  of  service,  not  directed,  controlled 
and  flattered  investigation,  would  convince  any  man, 
familiar  with  modern  pedagogical  ideas  and  prin- 
ciples, of  the  utter  injustice  of  such  a  condemnation. 

The  apparently  imaginary  facts,  embodied  in  "A 
Bunch  of  Little  Thieves"  are  real,  come  from  actual 
experience,  and  will,  I  hope,  sustain  my  contentions. 
The  title  is  selected  as  indicating  the  attitude  on 
the  part  of  most  reformatory  officials  towards  the 
delinquents,  who  by  order  of  the  State  become  their 
victims. 

D.  S.  G. 
Jamaica,  L.  I., 
December,  1912. 


CONTENTS 

Chapter.  Page. 

Introduction    3 

Preface    7 

I    The  Cause  of  an  Apple  and  a  Child 11 

II    Home    and    School     17 

III  A  Turn  in  the  Road 31 

IV  Cottage    One,    Number   Thirty-Three 42 

V  Unoiled  Machinery 50 

VI    His  First  Lesson  in  Reformation 66 

VII  Visitors    71 

VIII  The  Family  .Increases 78 

IX  Some   More   Teachers 102 

X  New    Forces Ill 

XI  New    Effects 126 

XII  Refugees     155 

XIII  An  Official  Rectification  of  an  Unofficial  Mistake.  .163 

XIV  Victory   199 

XV  An   Interminable   Reformation 215 

XVI    The   Battle   Lost 223 

XVII    Twilight   Deepens   Into   Night 237 

XVIII    A  Flight  to  Tower  Hill 245 

1     (Book  Two)     A  Vision 263 

II    The  Vision  Unfolds  Its  Reality 275 

III  One  Day  on  Tower  Hill 287 

IV  Another  Tragedy  at  Abolt 310 

V  A  Living  Plea  and  Living  Evidence 314 

VI    Abolt  School  and  Tower  Hill 321 

Afterword    325 


A  BUNCH  OF  LITTLE 
THIEVES 

BOOK    ONE 
CHAPTER  I 

THE  CAUSE  OF  AN  APPLE  AND  A  CHILD 

It  was  Michael  Roate  that  the  hands  of  the  law 
had  fallen  upon;  and  it  might  have  been  number 
thirty-three  or  a  block  of  wood,  or  the  falling  might 
have  been  an  accident  worthy  of  a  good  laugh  or 
of  even  less  importance,  as  far  as  most  of  the  people 
on  a  squirmy  street  of  the  great  city  slums  were 
concerned.  Some,  however,  were  concerned  in  pe- 
culiar ways  of  their  own.  There  was  the  crowd  of 
busybodies  always  on  the  lookout  for  whatever 
may  happen,  whose  sole  reason  for  existence  seems 
to  be  the  constituting  of  breathless  assemblies, 
whose  attraction  for  each  other  is  governed  by  the 
law  of  imitation,  who  stops  to  look  for  no  other  rea- 
son than  that  other  members  of  their  society  are 
doing  so,  just  as  they  wear  a  hat  or  specially  cut 
cloak  or  political  principle,  or  ghost  of  one,  because 
the  rest  of  the  membership,  led  by  one  or  two,  are 
doing  so.  Aside  from  these,  there  were  three  other 
parties  concerned — an  emaciated  and  dirty  individ- 
ual who  had  lost  an  apple,  Michael  Roate  accused  of 
desiring  and  taking  it,  and  the  laws  of  society  im- 
personated by  a  rather  weighty  policeman,  who  had 
cuuic  to  rescue  il. 


12  A   BUiNGH    OF   LITTLE    THIEVES 

To  sum  the  matter  up,  an  apple  had  been  lost 
and  the  machinery  of  society  was  forced  into  mo- 
tion. 

The  big  policeman  had  laid  a  heavy  hand  on 
the  shoulder  of  the  boy,  Michael  Roate,  and  from 
the  grip  of  that  large  hand,  like  the  rays  of  sunset, 
creases  shot  out  in  all  upper  directions  on  the  ragged 
coat,  and  pointed  mercilessly  to  the  frightened  yel- 
low face.  The  expression  on  the  officer's  face  was 
one  of  vast  importance  and  power.  He  waited  for 
the  coming  of  the  patrol,  the  other  good-sized  offi- 
cer, and  the  two  excited  horses.  The  pedlar,  the 
loser  of  the  apple,  who  was  encircled  by  a  part  of 
the  crowd,  went  into  great  antics,  explaining  it  all, 
shook  his  fist  at  the  captured  Michael,  and  went  off 
selling  his  wares  in  operatic  fashion. 

The  crowd  tightened  about  the  center  of  interest, 
until  repelled  in  profane  language  by  the  officer, 
when  they  would  shove  backwards  for  a  moment  or 
so  until  the  growth  of  the  assembly  forced  them  to 
the  center  again.  Soon  the  ringing  of  the  patrol 
bell  caused  an  opening.  Michael  was  hurriedly 
thrown  into  the  wagon,  and  the  crowd  was  left  to 
look  about  for  other  excitement. 

Michael  was  dressed  raggedly,  of  course,  and  his 
rags  were  not  clean.  His  hands  were  covered  with 
warts.  The  long-drawn  face  was  covered  with  a 
clear  yellow  skin.  Everything  about  him,  save  his 
large  blue  eyes,  spelled  ugliness  and  dirt.  He  was 
moved  on  rapidly  to  the  Children's  Court. 

The  Children's  Court!  What  a  sordid  affair  it 
was  for  children!  Dirty,  noisy,  sunless,  and  un- 
cared  for !  Walls  wet  and  musty,  and  window  panes 
unwashed — translucent  rather  than  transparent,  and 


A   BUNCH    OP   LITTLE   THIEVES  13 

partially  hidden  by  torn  and  crooked  window 
blinds. 

Michael  had  been  there  before,  and  though  there 
was  no  little  of  the  familiar  about  the  place  to  him, 
he  was  filled  with  dread— dread  for  the  immense 
dark  hall  room,  the  many  parents  or  guardians  doz- 
ing in  their  part  of  the  court  room,  and  the  many 
boys  and  fewer  girls  on  the  other  side  of  the  fence 
and  nearer  to  the  black-gowned  individual,  with 
the  countless  other  individuals  about  him — the 
worst  dread  of  all.  But  once  seated  upon  one  of 
the  benches  in  the  midst  of  the  multitude  of  little 
sinners,  and  one  of  them,  rather  than  alone,  he  lost 
the  greater  part  of  his  fear  and  began  a  conversa- 
tion with  the  little  man  next  to  him: 

"D n  pedlar!     I  only  took  an  apple  an'  he 

w^ent  in  on  me." 

"D n   pedlars!"    came   back   from   his   very 

slightly  moved  acquaintance,  who  sat  with  the  air 
of  an  old  man,  rich  in  experience  and  certain,  as 

a  consequence  thereof,  that  everybody  was  a  d d 

something. 

"Nothin'  '11  happen,"  said  Michael,  betraying  a 
small  amount  of  anxiety  and  a  great  amount  of 

"Can't  tell." 

Michael  turned  half  way  about.  This  was  un- 
usual. In  spite  of  the  amount  of  fear,  it  was  their 
habit  to  encourage  each  other.  This  was  unusual 
and  might  have  grown  from  experience.  "What 
can  they  do?"  he  asked  with  feigned  disgust.  "Tell 
you  not  to  do  it  again  and — " 

He  was  interrupted.  A  sudden  shriek  of  mad- 
ness rent  the  thick  court  room  air,  and  rushing 


14  A   BUNCH   OF   LITTLE   THIEVES 

noises  and  clatter  of  feet  accompanied  it  and  the 
more  horrible  shrieks  that  followed.  In  the  midst 
of  the  dirty  section  provided  for  the  convenience  of 
the  waiting  parents  or  guardians,  an  uncouth  worn- 
out  frame  of  a  woman  fell  to  the  floor  with  a  thud 
and  her  legs  kicked  furiously  upon  its  filthy  sur- 
face. 

With  arms  raised  upward,  shrieking  and  con- 
demning all  about  her,  she  fell  frothing  at  the 
mouth,  and  developed  such  strength  that  four  huge 
officers  could  not  control  her. 

Her  continued  screaming,  the  irregular  thump- 
ing of  her  feet,  grown  strangely  energetic,  con- 
tinued to  fill  with  dread  the  dried  up  little  hearts  of 
the  huddled  mass  of  culprits  on  the  other  side  of 
the  fence,  all  of  whom  but  two  had  arisen  on  their 
toes  to  see  more  clearly  what  they  instinctively  felt 
a  horror  for.  The  two  knew  all  about  it  and  were 
ashamed — for  they  were  branded  with  kinship  to 
the  mass  of  hair  and  rags  that  was  so  horrible. 

In  the  midst  of  the  tumult  the  gavel  came  thun- 
dering down  upon  the  counter  of  justice  and  his 
honor  commanded:  "Leave  her  alone!  People  in 
that  condition  must  be  let  alone !  The  Court  will  go 
on  with  its  business!"  It  did  go  on  and  it  had  a 
great  deal  of  business. 

But  it  was  awful  to  have  that  horrible  thing 
about  when  the  Court  had  so  much  of  importance 
before  it.  The  four  heavy  guards  grabbed  each  a 
leg  and  an  arm,  with  smiles  on  their  faces,  appar- 
ently enjoying  the  joke  immensely,  and  rushed  past 
the  horrified  throng  of  parents,  out  through  a  mys- 
terious dark  doorway,  from  where  they  returned 
some  moments  later,  still  enjoying  the  joke,  and 


A   BUNCH    OF   LITTLE   THIEVES  15 

even  infecting  a  few  of  the  boys  on  trial,  for  they 
smiled  too. 

To  Michael  this  was  too  mysterious  to  provoke 
laughter.  Besides  there  was  a  something  in  the  air 
now  that  he  had  not  expected.  His  thoughts  became 
heavy,  and  his  head  was  bent  forward  stolidly. 

Several  hours  later,  when  most  of  the  boys  who 
had  come  before  him  had  given  up  their  bench  room 
to  the  boys  that  came  after  him,  Michael  was  fright- 
ened by  the  sound  of  his  own  name.  He  was  want- 
ed before  the  bar  of  justice,  and  rose  hastily  and 
nervously.  He  was  led  around  a  clutter  of  desks, 
and  stood  right  up  before  the  judge,  the  blood  rush- 
ing to  his  face  and  turning  the  green  yellow  to  a 
red.  The  judge  stared  at  him  for  a  few  seconds, 
and  Michael  shook  from  head  to  foot.  The  record 
was  wanted  of  the  offender.  The  clerk  from  behind 
touched  his  hand  and  asked,  "When  were  you  ar- 
rested last?" 

Michael  turned  about  to  answer. 

The  judge  was  furious,  or  at  least  he  feigned  fury 
to  teach  him  respect  more  emphatically.  "How  dare 
you  turn  your  back  upon  the  Court?"  he  yelled.* 

Michael  almost  fell  from  his  feet,  in  bewilder- 
ment. The  District  Attorney  hurriedly  whirled  him 
about. 

"Your  trial,"  said  the  judge  when  he  was  given 
the  bad  record  Michael  had  already  made,  "will 
take  place  on  Wednesday.    You  see  that  your  moth- 


•ThlB  Is  an  unexaggerated  deBcrlption  of  a  real  court 
room  and  a  real  judge.  The  writer  Is  aware,  however,  that 
some  judges  are  kind  and  sympathetic  and  that  some  court 
rooms  are  sunnier. 


16  A   BUNCH    OF    LITTLE    THIEVES 

er  is  with  you  or  we  will  send  for  her  with  a  patrol 
wagon — do  you  understand?' 

Michael  understood  and  was  temporarily  dis- 
charged, and  given  over  to  the  probation  officer, 
who  made  arrangements  for  his  security,  and  sent 
him  home. 


CHAPTER  II 

HOME  AND  SCHOOL 

Michael  was  let  loose,  and  the  further  he  got 
from  the  Court  House  the  freer  he  felt,  till  the 
thought  of  home  brought  upon  him  by  the  near- 
ness to  it,  expelled  one  fear  and  substituted  another. 
His  home  was  one  of  the  many  that  are  hidden  in 
the  darkness  of  a  brick  tenement.  With  the  ques- 
tion uppermost  in  his  mind — "What  is  going  to 
happen  now?" — he  entered  the  hallway.  The  smell 
there  was  bad,  but  his  mistreated  sense  of  smell  was 
weakened  and  almost  dead.  Besides  there  were  in- 
finitely worse  things  to  think  about  just  then. 

He  climbed  four  unlighted  stairways,  with  the 
aid  of  the  sticky  banister,  and  made  his  way  along 
a  narrow  greasy  corridor.  In  one  of  the  dark  cor- 
ners was  his  home.  He  hesitated — straightened  his 
facial  expression,  and  cautiously  opened  the  door. 
An  overpowering  whifT  of  boiled  clothes  and  soap 
was  all  he  could  see  or  feel  for  a  moment;  then  grad- 
ually he  distinguished  a  dim  gaslight,  which  went 
through  the  operations  of  a  sickly  dance,  because  of 
the  opened  door  and  the  consequent  draught. 

His  mother  was  washing  clothes.  On  the  oil- 
cloth covered  table,  probably  unwashed  for  a  week 
or  more,  protected  from  its  possible  effect  by  a  large 
piece  of  paper,  lay  a  bundle  of  coats,  the  buttons 
of  which  had  not  yet  all  been  sewed  on.  This 
woman,  paradoxically  fat,  with  wrinkled  brow  and 
perspiration  running  down  the  furrows,  went  on 


18  A   BUNCH    OF   LITTLE   THIEVES 

washing,  apparently  very  miserable  about  some- 
thing. Michael  eyed  her  hesitatingly  a  moment 
from  the  doorway;  then,  feeling  safe,  and  thinking 
it  best  to  show  no  signs  of  worry,  made  for  the 
door  of  a  dilapidated  imitation  of  an  ice  box  and 
began  rummaging  about  among  the  few  pieces  ot 
foodstuffs  saturated  with  the  soapy  steam. 

This  was  just  what  she  wanted,  to  relieve  herself. 
Seeing  him  at  a  safe  distance  from  the  doorway, 
with  his  head  in  the  box,  she  came  down  upon  him 
with  a  heavy  wet  shirt,  from  which  she  had  just 
wrung  the  surplus  water.  A  button  on  one  end  of 
it  struck  him  on  the  neck,  caused  him  to  scream  for 
mercy  and  roll  over  on  the  floor. 

The  animal  mother's  heart  was  touched.  She 
was  sorry  at  sight  of  him  doubled  up  on  the  floor, 
but  did  not  dare  admit  her  regret. 

She  went  on  washing,  and  through  the  steam 
heard  the  painful  wailing  of  her  ofTspring.  She 
heard  it  growing  more  bitter  though  somewhat 
softer,  and  fell  into  hating  herself  and  her  exist- 
ence; and,  as  she  went  on  rubbing  generously  some 
useless  old  rag,  hot  tears  were  mixed  with  the  dirty 
water. 

Michael  cried  till  he  was  tired,  crept  away  to  his 
end  of  the  family's  sole  bedroom,  and  with  his 
dirty  wart-covered  hand,  wiped  off  the  film  of  vapor 
on  the  window  pane  that  he  might  see  the  squirm- 
ing of  the  human  worms  four  flights  below.  He 
watched  them  for  a  long  time  and,  with  the  move- 
ments of  the  two  endless  streams,  he  lost  his  con- 
sciousness and  with  it  his  worries.  With  forehead 
against  the  pane,  he  fell  asleep. 


A   BUNCH    OF   LITTLE    THIEVES  19 

When  Michael  awoke  again,  the  night  was  ap- 
proaching. Lights  here  and  there  were  ah^eady  Ut, 
and  the  masses  on  the  street  were  hurrying  their 
footsteps.  He  had  had  a  bad  dream  while  he  slept, 
but  the  thought  that  his  elder  brother  was  coming 
home  from  the  shop,  was  even  more  horrifying. 

The  yellow-skinned  senior  soon  appeared,  and 
Michael  deliberated  nervously  whether  he  should 
jump  out  of  the  window  or  face  what  he  knew  from 
experience  was  about  to  come.  He  judged  by  his 
mother's  actions  that  the  neighbors  had  already  in- 
formed her  of  what  had  happened,  and  that  she 
would  at  once  tell  his  brother  all  about  it.  He  had 
very  little  time  to  do  his  deliberating,  however,  for 
no  sooner  did  Mrs.  Roatc  tell  Alex  what  had  hap- 
pened, than  he  made  for  Michael  and  brought  him 
by  the  collar  into  the  kitchen. 

"Now  I  want  to  know  what  happened,"  he  be- 
gan. 

Michael  sobbed  bitterly  and  loud  J3y  way  of  an- 
swer. 

"If  you  don't  take  him  in  hand,"  cried  Mrs. 
Roate,  "and  act  as  a  father  to  him,  he  will  die  on  the 
gallows.  Every  day  another  arrest.  To-day  the 
neighbors  were  all  talking  about  him.  What  shall 
we  do  with  him?  I  am  an  honest  woman,  and  my 
people  were  all  honest.  Why  should  I  be  cursed 
with  a  thief?  I  have  told  him  so  many  times  its 
much  better  never  to  taste  an  apple  than  to  steal 
it."  Mrs.  Roate  could  not  continue  and  broke  into 
weeping. 

Alex  had  been  told  often  enough  to  be  a  father 
to  him,  and  if  being  a  father  meant  the  use  of  his 
leather  belt,  Alex  had  been  a  most  fatherly  father, 


20  A   BUNCH    OF   LITTLE   THIEVES 

and  wi[h  each  boaliiig  felt  his  responsibiUly  grow. 
The  fact  that  after  ah  the  beatings  he  had  already 
administered  Michael  continued  his  stealing,  was 
proof  enough  to  the  overworked  mind  of  Alex  that 
those  beatings  had  not  been  hard  enough. 

At  sight  of  the  belt  Michael  stretched  up  his 
hands  to  protect  his  face  and  begged,  "Leave  me 
alone." 

But  the  strap  came  down  over  face  and  back  in 
merciless  lashes.  Michael  was  forced  upon  his 
knees,  a  position  not  only  physically  painful  but 
humiliating  to  madness,  and  Michael  clawed  and  bit 
and  struck  back,  bringing  down  upon  himself  such 
an  overpowering  volley  of  additional  lashes  that  he 
finally  fell  upon  the  floor  on  the  verge  of  fainting. 
Here  the  mother  interfered,  and  with  her  voice  at  an 
extremely  high  pitch,  pleading  and  wailing  at  the 
same  time,  she  hung  on  to  the  elder's  arms,  and 
Michael  was  rescued. 

The  beating  stopped,  and  with  it  Michael's  cry- 
ing. He  forced  himself  up,  made  for  his  box  near 
the  window,  and  bit  his  lips — a  sudden  power  of 
control  was  born  of  a  secret  plot  that  Michael  con- 
ceived and  locked  somewhere  behind  the  fiery  glare 
of  his  two  blue  eyes. 

"Go  to  eat,"  yelled  Alex,  still  panting. 

"I  don't  want  to  eat." 

"You  go  to  eat,  or  I'll  give  you  some  more." 

With  that  secret  plot  forming  itself  more  clear- 
ly, and  burning  itself  deeper  into  his  brain,  Michael 
went  to  the  table. 

The  worst  of  the  meat,  bread,  and  soup,  in  the 
smallest  quantities,  fell  to  the  lot  of  Michael  as  us- 
ual.   In  the  past,  when  he  complained  of  this,  he 


A   BUNCH   OF   LITTLE   THIEVES  21 

was  told  that  when  he  would  go  to  work  and  bring 
home  a  weekly  salary,  he,  too,  would  be  given  more. 
But  he  was  not  complaining  that  night.  He  had  a 
problem  to  solve,  and  thoughts  of  it  filled  him  with 
restlessness;  he  lay  and  thought  and  planned. 

The  sun  never  rises  in  the  tenement  district. 
Gray  day  merely  comes,  and  the  tenents  awake  into 
it,  with  a  hurry  to  go  to  work,  a  bad  taste,  and  a 
head  full  of  bad  dreams. 

Michael  hadn't  fallen  asleep  till  late  in  the  night, 
and  so  was  still  sleeping  soundly  when  his  brother, 
more  cranky  than  ever,  shook  him  by  the  shoulder 
and  demanded  that  he  get  up  at  once  and  clean  up 
for  school. 

"Why  does  one  get  born  at  all?"  he  kept  asking 
himself  all  day,  and  various  impressions  of  his 
mother,  his  brother,  and  his  teacher,  in  fact  of  all 
his  world,  embittered  the  stream  of  his  conscious- 
ness. He  went  to  school  because  he  had  to,  and  he 
determined  to  behave  himself  if  possible,  because  of 
his  brother  and  the  trial  that  hovered  over  him. 

"Here  is  that  wretched  kid  back  again,"  said  his 
young  lady  teacher  to  herself,  upon  sight  of  him. 
"I  do  wish  he  could  be  sent  away  where  he  belongs." 

Michael  started  to  his  seat  like  a  good  boy;  he 
was  too  much  worried  to  bother  about  tricks  and 
meanness.  He  decided  to  get  to  his  seat  as  quick- 
ly as  he  could,  pay  no  attention  to  any  of  his  class- 
mates, and  think,  and  think  hard.  But  his  was  not 
the  first  good  or  half-way  good  intention  to  be 
turned  to  evil.  Knowing  him  for  what  everybody 
knew  him  to  be,  the  boy  in  the  second  seat  sudden- 
ly stretched  his  leg  to  trip  him.  Michael  was  not 
to  be  tampered  with,  so  thai  insLead  of  tripping  as 


22  A   BUNCH    OF   LITTLE   THIEVES 

was  expected  of  him,  he  kicked  the  outstretched 
foot  such  a  terrific  blow  that  the  boy  fairly  howled 
with  pain. 

Of  course  Michael  was  a  bad  boy,  and  every- 
body, his  teacher  included,  knew  without  doubt  that 
he  was,  and  consequently  and  logically,  decided  that 
he  was  the  source  of  the  trouble. 

"See  here,"  yelled  the  infuriated  teacher,  "you 
good  for  nothing!  Beginning  your  dirty  tricks 
again?" 

To  practice  injustice  does  not  necessarily  mean 
a  lack  of  appreciation  of  justice.  The  fact  that 
Michael  was  often  a  wrongdoer  did  not  keep  him 
from  feeling  most  intensely  that  an  injustice  had 
been  done  him  by  the  teacher,  and  he  forgot  his  in- 
tentions of  behaving  himself — he  was  mad.  He 
rushed  to  his  seat  and  shuffled  his  feet. 

"Gome  right  back  here!"  cried  the  teacher,  being 
certain  that  it  would  not  do  to  let  him  go.  "He  to 
get  the  best  of  me?"  she  thought,  "No,  sir." 

Michael  came  back  and  shuffled  his  feet  all  the 
more. 

"Get  into  that  corner  and  stay  there,"  she  de- 
manded, "and  I  will  attend  to  you  for  this  some 
other  time." 

The  frown  on  Michael's  face  remained  there 
during  the  first  half  hour  of  his  stay  in  the  corner. 
Then  it  gradually  began  to  wear  ofT,  and  Michael 
slowly  moved  towards  the  window,  where  he  could 
look  out  upon  the  busy  street  below.  He  remained 
in  that  position  for  some  time,  and  was  beginning 
to  tire  of  the  p^^ople  he  was  seeing  and  his  own  po- 
sition, when  he  discovered  among  the  crowds  the 
apple  vender,  who  was  the  cause  of  his  recent  trou- 


A   BUNCH   OF   LITTLE   THIEVES  23 

bles.  His  excitement   was  intense.  "D n  pedlar," 

he  cried.  Half  the  class  were  on  their  feet  and  rush- 
ing for  the  windows,  while  the  other  half  were  at- 
tempting to  do  so. 

"Oh,  if  some  lightning  would  strike  that  crea- 
ture!" thought  the  school  mistress,  working  her- 
self into  a  fever  trying  to  get  the  class  back  into 
their  seats  and  to  stop  the  laughter.  Then  she  was 
to  have  her  revenge.  The  class  was  quiet  again, 
and  her  looks  worried  some  of  them,  Michael  es- 
pecially. She  fell  into  her  seat  with  a  thud  and  be- 
gan a  hurried  scribbling  that  spelled  danger,  and 
Michael  felt  he  was  now  in  for  still  more. 

The  note  written,  a  boy  took  it  and  left  the  room 
with  an  alarming  and  prophetic  bang  of  the  door, 
while  the  enraged  young  lady  rose  with  the  air  of 
one  about  to  have  revenge  to  her  heart's  content, 
and  proceeded  with  her  work,  her  eyes  flashing  fire 
towards  the  corner  every  now  and  then.  "You  mon- 
ster!   Just  wait!"  her  expression  plainly  said. 

The  monster  stood  in  his  corner,  very  weak  and 
miserable,  till  the  door  opened,  and  a  stately  individ- 
ual shoved  himself  in,  arms  akimbo,  and  stared. 
\Vhen  he  had  stared  the  youngster  into  half  a  fit, 
he  motioned  with  his  hand  and  Michael  very  meek- 
ly followed  him  out  into  the  office. 

"You  are  a  bad  one,"  said  Mr.  Hale,  the  prin- 
cipal, after  he  had  seated  himself  comfortably  in 
his  office  chair.  He  laid  down  his  glasses,  took  up 
a  fifteen-inch  wired  ruler  in  his  hand,  and  gently 
passed  it  through  the  other,  while  Michael  eyed  it 
vvitli  still  more  misery  written  on  his  face. 

Michael's  mother  was  not  opposed  to  corporal 
punishment  and  had  deliberately  given  Mr.   Hale 


24  A   BUNCH    OF   LITTLE    THIEVES 

permission  to  beat  her  son.  Mr.  Hale,  assured  that 
no  complaint  would  be  made,  asked  him  to  come 
nearer. 

He  approached  very  slowly,  attempting  to  ex- 
plain in  the  hope  that  that  would  replace  the  ruler 
upon  the  desk  where  it  belonged.  "I — only — "  The 
ruler  quite  suddenly  came  down  with  terrible  force 
upon  one  of  his  skinny  legs,  and  Michael  was  upon 
the  floor  finishing  his  sentence  with  so  many  pierc- 
ing "Ohs!" 

"I  know  you,"  the  principal  explained  to  him, 
"you  are  a  bad  one.     Get  up!     Get  up!  I  say!" 

Finally  getting  up  and  wiping  his  eyes,  till  the 
tears  ran  in  minute  streamlets  in  the  cracky  sur- 
faces of  the  warts  on  his  right  hand,  he  was  in  posi- 
tion for  another  whack.  Down  came  the  ruler  again, 
almost  as  unexpectedly  as  before,  but  not  quickly 
enough,  landing  on  four  wart  covered  fingers  that 
had  hurried  to  the  protection  of  the  other  fleshless 
leg. 

The  howling  that  followed  was  forced  to  sub- 
side by  threats,  and  Michael  was  then  shoved  into  a 
corner.  \A'hen  his  sobbing  died  down  altogether, 
Michael  heard  the  scribbling  of  the  principal  and 
worried  again. 

The  door  opened  and  the  clerk,  a  pretty  faced 
young  lady,  who  had  been  waiting  without  till  the 
performance  should  end,  came  tripping  into  the 
room  with  a  large  blood-red  apple  on  a  napkin  and 
a  plate. 

Michael  had  been  slowly  turning  about  till  he 
could  see  all  that  was  going  on. 

The  angry  face  of  the  principal  was  now  all 
smiles  and  good  humor.    The  ruler  was  placed  on 


A   BUNCH    OF   LITTLE    THIEVES  25 

the  unfinished  note  and  his  delicate  white  hands 
began  the  dissection  of  the  apple. 

"Have  this,"  he  said  to  the  young  lady,  pointing 
to  the  largest  of  the  halves  of  the  apple,  whose 
creamy  whiteness  made  Michael  almost  sick  with 
desire. 

"No,  thank  you,"  said  the  young  lady,  sweetly, 
"it's  all  for  you." 

"Oh,  you  must,"  and  the  principal  took  the  soft 
bare  arm,  and,  lifting  it  tenderly — there  was  more 
flesh  on  it  than  on  the  arms  he  had  just  been  abus- 
ing— forced  her  to  take  half  of  the  apple;  and  the 
two  happily  munched  away,  until  he  discovered 
Michael  staring  wildly.  "How  did  I  tell  you  to 
stand?" 

His  wet  blue  eyes  turned  about  again,  and  his 
fevered  head  fell  into  the  corner,  as  if  that  corner 
had  been  made  for  it. 

At  three  o'clock  Michael  was  released,  and  the 
principal  demanded  that  he  appear  in  the  office 
early  next  morning,  adding,  "I'll  make  a  good  boy 
of  you."  Michael  was  well  aware  of  what  that 
meant,  and  thought,  "You  only  let  me  go,  and  I'll 
be  here  all  right." 

When  on  the  street  and  out  of  reach,  he  made  a 
grand  rush  for  the  market,  where  he  thought  with 
great  care  he  might  gatlier  an  apple,  a  sweet  potato, 
or  a  cake,  from  a  push  cart  or  stand. 

"Hello  Kaiky,"  he  cried. 

And  Kaiky  impatiently  replied,  "Keep  still! 
Come  to  camp." 

"What's  the  use  of  goin'  to  camp  when  you  have 
nothiii'  on  you?"    thought  Michael,  but  something 


26  A   BUNCH    OF   LITTLE   THIEVES 

in  the  attitude  of  his  friend  made  him  follow  and 
say  nothing. 

At  camp  they  found  Skinny,  with  pockets  dan- 
gerously bulging  out,  packed  with  sweet  potatoes 
and  apples.  Gamp  consisted  of  a  well  fenced-in 
vacant  lot,  and  a  huge  piece  of  rusty  tin  in  one  cor- 
ner of  it.  Under  this  tin  they  kept  house,  to  make 
up  for  the  insufficiency  of  home. 

To  the  dismay  of  Skinny  and  Michael,  as  soon 
as  they  were  safely  at  home,  Kaiky  began  to  dance 
about  in  a  circle  on  one  foot.  Little  Skinny's  nature 
was  very  different  from  that  of  Michael.  Questions 
were  unnecessary  in  a  case  like  this.  Instead  of 
annoying  Kaiky  with  the  demand  for  premature 
explanations,  he  joined  him  and  both  danced 
around. 

"You  crazy  dopes,"  said  Michael,  "give  us  some- 
thin'  to  eat,  if  you  got  it." 

"You'd  be  crazy,  too,  if  you  had  what  I  have." 
He  gathered  the  two  comrades  about  him  closely 
and  revealed  a  shining  half  dollar. 

Michael  was  delighted,  and  his  starving  eyes 
almost  looked  a  hole  through  it.  "Stop  your  danc- 
in'  an'  give  it  to  me,  and  I'll  go  and  get  somethin' 
for  it." 

Kaiky  gave  it  to  him  willingly,  adding,  "Don't 
spend  more'n  half  of  it." 

Michael  soon  returned  with  bologna,  cheese,  and 
black  bread,  wrapped  in  a  newspaper,  the  advertise- 
ments of  which  protruded  before  and  after  his  right 
arm ;  but  he  had  spent  all  of  their  money. 

Such  a  feast!  They  ate  or  rather  devoured,  the 
whole  supply,  and  sat  down  for  a  few  after-dinner 
thoughts.     Kaiky  listened  to  Michael's  hard  luck 


A   BUNCH    OF   LITTLE   THIEVES  27 

story  as  attentively  as  Skinny  did,  but  not  with  as 
much  interest,  for  his  mind  was  too  much  occupied 
with  a  something  he  felt  distinctly  his  own.  A  new 
world  was  opening  up  to  him.  He,  Kaiky,  the  boy 
of  occasional  pennies,  was  to  become  a  man  with 
half  dollars.  And  why  not  dollars?  A  new  world, 
indeed,  was  opening  up  to  him  now  with  the  birth 
of  this  new  ability.  Like  the  sculptor,  the  poet,  the 
composer,  or  the  inventor,  he  too  had  discovered  in 
himself  a  great  power,  and  like  them,  he  was  in- 
spired to  greater  hopes.  H"  re  uas  a  something, 
which  he  unconsciously  fell,  li<ai  everybody  was 
struggling  for,  a  something  the  lack  of  which  gave 
him  his  rags  and  yellow  face,  and  so  often,  this 
hunger  for  bologna  and  bread.  To  him  this  new 
ability  brought  that  something,  and  might  bring  it 
in  greater  quantities;  for  not  all  ladies  have  only  a 
fifty-cent  piece  in  their  pocket-books.  There  would 
be  plenty  of  bread  and  bologna,  and  even  soda- 
water. 

Skinny,  who  had  pocketed  two  sweet  potatoes 
and  an  apple,  had  eaten  so  much  he  wasn't  feeling 
just  right,  and  lay  stomach  down  upon  a  rock,  with 
an  air  of,  "It'll  soon  be  over."  He  thought  of  Kaiky's 
luck,  when  his  stomach  allowed  him  to,  and  won- 
dered how  he'd  fare  should  he  try  it. 

Michael  thought  very  deeply.  If  instead  of  all 
tlie  old  apples,  he  too  had  taken  half  dollar  pieces, 
he  would  now  have  enough  to  run  away  with  suc- 
cessfully. It  bothered  him.  He  finally  worked  off 
some  of  his  emotion  by  kicking  a  stone  near  his 
foot,  and  started  up. 

"Whore  goin',  Mike?"  asked  Kaiky. 


28  A   BUNCH    OF   LITTLE   THIEVES 

"I  got  t'  go  home,"  answered  Mike,  hiding  his 
emotions.  "I'll  be  back  in  a  few  minutes — just 
show  her  that  I  was  in  school  all  day,  that's  all. 
Wait,  will  you,  fellows?" 

As  soon  as  Michael  was  gone,  Kaiky  suspecting 
Mike  of  more  than  going  home,  asked  Skinny  to 
remain  at  camp,  while  he,  too,  was  gone  for  a  min- 
ute. 

"No,"  pleaded  Skinny,  "let  me  go  with  you." 

After  some  arguing,  Kaiky,  thinking  him  very 
ungrateful  considering  all  the  bologna  and  bread 
he  had  so  generously  distributed,  struck  him  with 
his  fist  and  left  in  disgust. 

It  was  just  as  Kaiky  had  thought.  Mike  had  not 
gone  home.  He  was  out  tryin'  his  luck.  Kaiky  saw 
him  too.  "But  he  won't  make  more'n  me,"  he 
thought,  "I'll  go  on  the  other  street  an'  make  much 
more." 

Kaiky's  home  was  two  blocks  north  of  Michael's, 
and  consisted  of  but  one  room  more,  though,  besides 
his  mother  and  invalid  father,  it  housed  seven  chil- 
dren. His  father  was  a  consumptive  tailor,  and  his 
mother  did  most  of  the  supporting  of  the  family. 
Kaiky  was  the  oldest,  and  Mrs.  Kenen  had  six  small 
children  to  attend  to  after  her  daily  washing  of 
clothes.  Kaiky  was  glad  to  be  out  of  her  reach  get- 
ting his  share  of  the  race's  experience  on  the  streets, 
and  Mrs.  Kenen  was  glad  to  be  relieved  of  his  both- 
ering her.  You  can  get  neither  apples  nor  sweet  po- 
tatoes in  school.  Kaiky  attended  to  his  profession 
until  the  truant  officer  collared  him  and  brought  him 
to  school,  where  he  made  life  miserable  for  his  teach- 
er for  half  a  day  and  kept  out  of  the  truant  officer's 
reach  for  another  period. 


A   BUNCH    OF    LITTLE   THIEVES  29 

Skinny  was  llie  only  child  of  a  poor  old  couple 
who  lived  on  the  same  street.  He  had  had  eight 
brothers  and  sisters,  all  of  whom  died  a  few  weeks 
after  birth.  He  alone — cursed  as  he  was  by  heredity 
and  environment — survived  as  a  flickering  spark  of 
joy  to  his  prematurely  old  parents.  The  father  con- 
tributed to  the  sickly  family's  support  by  turning 
their  bedroom  into  a  vest  shop,  and  the  mother,  be- 
sides keeping  the  poverty-stricken  home  immacu- 
late, knitted  stockings  and  shawls.  He  was  the  only 
one  of  all  their  children  who  lived  through  his  baby- 
hood, and  they  loved  him  into  waywardness.  They 
were  unable  to  clothe  or  feed  him  sufficiently,  so 
they  yielded  to  all  his  other  whims.  As  far  as  school 
was  concerned,  he  had  his  physical  appearance  in 
his  favor.  He  looked  sickly.  "What  teacher  would 
refuse  to  accept  an  excuse  of  sickness  for  his  ab- 
sence? 

In  the  afternoon  of  the  next  day,  they  met  again 
under  the  rusty  tin — at  camp.  But  there  was  no 
dancing  on  one  leg  then.  All  Kaiky  had  was  one 
apple  and  a  small  sweet  potato;  Michael  had  the 
excuse  that  now  before  the  trial  he  didn't  dare  to 
steal ;  and  Skinny  had  his  yellow  sickly  face  and  a 
great  desire. 

Kaiky  roasted  his  sweet  potato  to  a  crisp  and 
divided  it  into  three  parts,  giving  the  smallest  two 
to  his  comrades.  The  apple  he  shared  in  about  the 
same  way — a  small  piece  for  Mike  and  a  promise 
of  the  core  to  Skinny,  who  sat  and  eagerly  watched 
it.  That  not  being  enough  to  satisfy  the  hunger  of 
growing  youngsters,  they  made  for  their  respective 
homes  with  faint  hopes  of  finding  more. 


30  A   BUNCH    OF   LITTLE   THIEVES 

Michael  knew  too  well  that  there  was  very  little 
to  be  found  in  his  mother's  terrible  kitchen,  and  de- 
cided, before  he  got  there,  to  remain  on  the  street 
and  look  out  for  what  might  turn  up  there.  Quiet- 
ly and  innocently  he  wended  his  way  until  he  fell 
into  a  market  street.  An  innumerable  lot  of  men 
and  women  yelled  like  beasts,  advertising  their 
wares.  Such  ugly-looking  men  and  women,  dis- 
figured by  a  strange  duty,  insatiable  desires  and 
misery  had  constituted  Michael's  environment  since 
the  first  day  his  mind  awoke  and  he  could  see  and 
think.  These  therefore  made  no  impressions  upon 
him  other  than  as  being  the  owners  of  the  good 
things  he  craved;  and  for  this  he  hated  them. 

An  old  crippled  woman  was  squatted  on  the  curb 
before  him,  watching  carefully  over  a  heap  of  bad- 
looking  cakes.  "Gee!  They  look  good,"  thought 
Michael.  He  was  about  to  take  advantage  of  her 
when  his  large  blue  eyes  caught  sight  of  another 
woman's  pocket-book.  A  sudden  overwhelming 
desire  seized  him.  She  wasn't  looking!  He  gave 
one  pull,  and  it  was  all  over  with  him.  The  furious 
woman  whirled  about,  grabbed  the  ill-looking 
youngster,  and  hung  on,  yelling  frightfully.  A  po- 
liceman arrived,  dispersed  a  part  of  the  crowd,  and 
with  poor  Michael  disappeared. 


CHAPTER  III 

A  TURN  IN  THE  ROAD 

The  judge  was  impatient.  Sitting  in  judgment 
upon  case  after  case  of  little  ofTenders  day  after  day, 
is  surely  not  a  very  good  means  for  developing  pa- 
tience in  any  one.  They  were  so  similar,  too — so 
monotonous.  Stealing,  forgiveness,  and  probation, 
and  stealing  all  over  again.  Michael's  name  was 
erased  from  the  city's  directory,  with  a  wave  of  the 
hand — "to  the  reformatory!"  The  catastrophe  he 
had  feared  had  come  upon  him,  and  it  was  not  his 
fault  either.  Surely  he  hadn't  had  many  chances; 
at  any  rate  he  had  hoped  for  many  more.  "But  it's 
all  over  now,"  he  thought.  "What  could  a  fellow 
like  me  do?" 

His  homo  was  bad.  He  knew  that.  But  in  his 
dwarfed  little  mind  home  stood  for  the  known. 
Whatever  kind  of  a  place  the  reformatory  might  be, 
whether  it  was  true  that  they  beat  ofTenders  there 
three  times  a  day,  and  once  before  going  to  bed,  or 
not,  it  was  the  unknown  to  him.  Even  with  grown- 
ups, given  an  equal  number  of  terrors  in  both  the 
known  and  the  unknown,  isn't  the  ratio  of  dread 
one  to  two? 

What  a  week  of  horrible  anticipation  it  was,  the 
week  he  spent  in  the  home  of  the  Gerry  Society. 
Why  didn't  they  send  him  right  there  and  settle  it? 
One  week  to  ponder  over  the  loss  of  home,  good  or 
bad,  and  the  weight  of  such  an  uncertainty  as  to 
what  the  reformatory  might  be  into  which  a  fellow 
was  to  be  thrown  for  a  very  great  part  of  his  life, 


32  A   BUNCH    OF   LITTLE    THIEVES 

if  not  for  the  rest  of  it.  That  week  made  an  old  man 
of  him.  It  was  the  turn  in  his  road.  His  limbs, 
bound  by  the  walls  of  a  room  and  a  guard,  gave  up, 
and  the  little  mind  alone  was  left  to  struggle,  to 
fight  it  out. 

A  great  change  had  come  upon  him  by  the  end 
of  that  week — a  sort  of  passage  from  youth,  bad  as 
that  was,  to  old  age.  There  came  a  queer  awaken- 
ing to  feelings  he  had  not  been  conscious  of  before; 
a  melancholy  expression  set  in  upon  his  face,  and 
he  grew  more  ugly  than  ever;  his  eyes  more  sad, 
as  if  they  had  wept  themselves  dry,  and  the  tears 
that  had  fallen  had  left  their  traces  there.  His  par- 
adoxically fat  mother  came  to  see  him  and  cried  very 
much  and  bitterly,  and  with  this  superabundance 
of  tears  and  emotion,  was  more  like  a  mother  than 
she  had  ever  been;  and  her  ugly  frightened  little 
animal,  almost  wrecked  by  fear,  felt  her  new-born 
tenderness,  respected  it  out  of  mystery,  and  regret- 
ted leaving  it.  Old  scenes  were  fading  from  the 
screen  before  him.  All  the  painful  hardness,  the 
sharp-cornered  table,  and  the  unclean  bed,  melted 
into  a  soft  gray  past,  and  the  new  scenes  in  the  dis- 
tance became  the  realities  to  be  feared  and  baf- 
fled. 

Michael  rode  in  a  train  with  the  probation  ofTi- 
cer,  whose  hand,  whether  ofT  or  on  his  shoulder, 
he  ever  felt.  Not  a  word  passed  between  them— 
one  read  a  newspaper  and  occasionally  laughed  to 
startle  the  other,  who  looked  and  thought. 

The  train  stopped.  The  probation  officer,  out 
of  habit,  took  his  hat,  descended  the  car-steps  to  the 
almost  deserted  platform  of  the  little  country  sta- 
tion of  Abolt,  and  took  the  crooked  path  into  the 


A   BUNCH    OF   LITTLE   THIEVES  33 

woods  and  up  the  hill;  while  Michael,  bound  to  him, 
followed. 

The  quiet  little  town,  a  few  happy,  well-dressed 
children  on  its  streets,  the  woods,  a  little  fellow  with 
a  dinner  pail,  whom  they  met  on  the  footway — these 
fascinated  Michael  till  he  almost  forgot  his  troubles. 
Such  sweet  air,  such  fragrance,  such  color,  and  so 
many  trees  were  unknown  to  his  experience.  The 
woods  ended  half  way  down  the  other  side  of  the 
hill.  From  there  a  valley  fell  away  below,  then 
rose  up  again  to  form  another  hill,  on  top  of 
which  he  beheld  a  cluster  of  brick  buildings  with 
two  rows  of  very  beautiful  concrete  cottages  spread- 
ing away  to  the  right  and  left. 

Eager  to  see  all  of  it,  and  yet  afraid  of  the  con- 
sequences, he  followed  the  officer  down  into  the  val- 
ley and  up  the  hill  again.  Another  strip  of  woods 
withheld  the  reformatory  grounds  from  their  view, 
but  when  this  was  passed  and  they  found  them- 
selves on  the  miniature  plateau  which  belonged  to 
the  reformatory,  Michael  was  overwhelmed  by  the 
sight.  His  experience  had  encompassed  nothing 
more  than  dirty  streets  and  tenements  and  a  small 
park  or  two.  From  the  center  of  a  circular  plot  of 
grass  there  rose  up  into  the  air  a  flag-pole.  Near  it 
stood  a  small  boy  in  canvas  clothes  holding  a  bugle 
under  his  right  arm.  Just  as  Michael  came  fully 
upon  the  grounds,  the  boy  placed  the  bugle  to  liis 
lips  and  blew  a  dozen  strong  and  happy  notes,  which 
gaily  shot  into  the  air  like  a  skyrocket  and  broke 
into  the  metallic  stars,  and  echoed  from  hill  to  hill, 
filling  his  little  soul  with  wonder  and  hope. 

Neat,  clean  roadways,  with  curved  pebbled  sur- 
faces, lined  with  whitewashed  stones,  ran  from  cot- 


34  A    BUNCH    OF    LITTLE    THIEVES 

tage  to  cottage,  and  met  in  the  center  of  the  grounds, 
circulating  about  the  flag-pole  and  leading  to  the 
school  and  administration  building. 

The  wonderfully  colored  hills,  the  fragrance 
everywhere,  the  beautiful  cottages,  the  homes  of  the 
little  sinners,  the  robust  bugle  boy,  and  the  general 
spirit  on  the  place,  produced  hopes  in  Michael  that 
he  had  never  dreamt  of — his  hands  might  be  washed, 
his  dirty  clothes  made  clean,  and  the  fear  and  un- 
certainty of  living  might  leave  him — he  smelled  such 
lovely  things  from  the  kitchen. 

Over  the  door  of  the  school  and  administration 
building,  carved  on  an  oblong-shaped  stone  slab, 
were  the  words,  "Abolt  School."  He  was  glad  to 
notice  the  absence  of  the  word  reformatory  of  which 
he  was  afraid. 

He  was  taken  into  the  first  room  of  the  office, 
and  stood  up  against  the  wall  to  await  further  or- 
ders and  demands.  The  probation  ofiicer  then  passed 
within.  The  room  in  which  Michael  had  been  left 
standing  was  occupied  by  a  number  of  desks,  on  one 
of  which  he  could  see  a  typewriter  used  by  a  queer- 
looking  young  lady,  who  sat  half  way  upon  it;  and, 
on  a  very  high  stool  near  a  second  desk  built  into 
a  partition,  he  could  see  an  even  queerer  looking 
young  man,  bent  over  a  day-book,  and  dangling  his 
legs.  These  individuals  might  have  been  part  of 
the  furniture,  so  little  interest  did  they  evince  in 
either  the  new  boy  or  the  probation  ofiicer — this  was 
a  way  they  had  of  showing  their  dignity.  Extreme- 
ly different  as  these  two  were  in  general,  they  were 
very  much  alike — especially  in  being  queer,  and 
Michael  eyed  them  with  many  kinds  of  interest. 


A    BUNCH    OF   LITTLE    THIEVES  35 

The  door  suddenly  opened  and  the  little  bugle 
boy,  carrying  his  bugle  under  his  right  arm,  entered 
the  room.  He  put  his  bugle  into  a  drawer  near  the 
bookkeeper's  feet  and  was  about  to  turn  away,  when 
the  queer-looking  official  turning  about  a  silly-look- 
ing face,  abnormally  long  ears,  and  an  equally  long 
mouth ;  stuck  his  pen  into  a  tuft  of  light  brown  hair 
between  one  of  the  long  ears  and  his  head;  and, 
without  saying  a  word,  grabbed  the  bugle  boy  by 
his  coat  sleeve  with  one  hand,  and  with  the  other 
pointed  to  a  piece  of  paper  that  had  fallen  from  his 
august  hand.  The  boy  quickly  picked  up  the  piece 
of  paper,  handed  it  to  him,  and  being  released  walked 
to  the  typewriter's  desk. 

The  typewriter  lady  wore  a  collar  that  seemed  to 
choke  her,  a  belt  that  was  almost  cutting  her  figure 
in  two,  very  stiff  cuffs,  and  tight  shoes  with  high 
heels.  Her  hair  was  slightly  gray,  and  her  face,  be- 
ginning to  wrinkle,  sparkled  with  dignity.  She  rose, 
gave  the  bugle  boy  her  seat  at  the  typewriter,  and 
took  a  chair  at  another  desk  nearer  to  Michael. 

"Well,"  began  the  queer-looking  typewriter  lady, 
after  Michael  had  begun  to  fear  that  he  was  to  stand 
in  that  position  for  the  rest  of  his  life,  and  with  a 
twist  of  her  half  gray  head  upw^ards  and  a  religious 
glance  downwards,  she  added,  "come  here." 

Michael  surmised  that  he  was  wanted. 

"Your  name?" 

Michael  thought  a  moment,  then  hastily  replied, 
"Mike  Roate." 

"Mike?  Michael  you  mean.  Your  father's 
name?" 

"I  ain't  got  no  father." 


36  A   BUNCH    OF   LITTLE   THIEVES 

"Ain't  got  no  father!"  she  repeated.  "What  Eng- 
lish expression!"  Then,  as  Michael  began  to  pass 
his  hat  nervously  from  hand  to  hand,  she  began 
again,  "What's  your  mother's  name?" 

This  time  he  was  stuck  for  sure,  but  a  sudden 
thought  dawned  upon  him.    "Mrs.  Roate." 

"Missus!  Hasn't  she  got  more  of  a  name  than 
that?" 

A  number  of  feminine  names  came  to  his  mind 
and  he  hurriedly  made  use  of  the  first,  "Mrs.  Mary 
Roate." 

Several  other  questions,  such  as,  "Where  do  you 
live?"  "How  old  are  you?"  "How  many  times  ar- 
rested?" "What  for?"  and  so  forth,  followed.  When 
through  with  these  he  was  returned  to  the  wall. 

"Jacque,"  said  Miss  Trunch,  the  typewriter  lady, 
to  the  bugle  boy,  "take  this  boy  to  quarantine." 

The  two  boys  left  the  office.  Jack  ran  down  the 
stairway  and  through  the  corridors  so  nimbly  that 
poor  Michael  had  a  hard  time  following  him.  A 
few  small  clouds  had  come  up  on  the  sky  from  the 
east,  and  a  wind  had  arisen  to  make  the  woods  (on 
the  other  side  of  the  reformatory  hill)  moan  and 
bend.  They  were  now  in  a  court  yard,  and  he  could 
see  the  woods,  the  valley,  and  another  hill  beyond 
tliat,  and  the  cottage  or  hospital  he  was  going  to,  a 
few  rods  off.  It  was  set  apart  from  all  the  other 
cottages,  was  surrounded  by  flower  beds,  and  was 
made  of  a  very  rough-looking  concrete. 

"That's  where  you're  goin'  to,"  said  Jack. 

"What's  that?" 

"Hospital." 

"Hospital?" 

"Yes,  where  they  cut  you  up." 


A    BUNCH    OF   LITTLE   THIEVES  37 

"Gwan — no!" 

"Sure.    Don't  believe  it  then." 

Michael  drew  back.  "Quit  your  kiddin',  is  that 
honest — where  they  beat  you?" 

"Beat  you!"  then,  lowering  his  voice,  "they  beat 
you  all  over  here." 

Michael  trembled.    "Do  they  beat  you  hard?" 

"What's  the  use  of  bein'  afraid,  you  cheeser!" 

They  came  upon  the  dreaded  cottage.  Jack,  with 
the  air  of  a  man  born  to  his  trade,  rang  the  bell 
twice,  called  out,  "One  for  quarantine,"  and  with 
remarkable  friskiness,  slapped  everything  within 
reach  and  disappeared.  Another  boy  took  charge 
of  "One  for  quarantine,"  and  took  him  inside. 

The  smell  of  chemicals  was  not  pleasant,  but  the 
sight  of  the  nurse,  dressed  in  white,  bubbling  over 
with  authority  and  conceit,  was  inflnitely  worse. 

"Don't  you  know  enough  to  salute  your  super- 
iors?" he  demanded,  with  an  English  accent,  glanc- 
ing at  him  severely  with  small  piggish  eyes. 

Michael  didn't  know  enough,  and  what  was 
worse,  he  was  one  of  those  unfortunate  creatures 
who,  in  spite  of  their  lowly  positions  in  life,  dare 
by  a  peculiar  expression  on  the  face  to  resent  ill 
treatment  or  what  they  consider  such.  Michael, 
full  of  fear,  involuntarily  frowned. 

With  a  rough  jerk  this  way  and  that,  he  was 
taught  how  to  salute,  but  now  he  was  certain  he 
hated  this  fellow,  and  the  frown  grew  more  dark — 
unfortunately  for  him. 

"Wait  'ere  a  moment,"  said  Mr.  Sarving  with  a 
twinkle  of  one  eye,  "I  think  you  need  a  trimming 
up." 


m         A   BUNCH   OF   LITTLE   THIEVES 

He  soon  came  back  with  a  forty  ounce  bottle 
labeled,  "Loafer's  Mixture,"  and  pouring  out  a  good 
sized  dose  in  a  glass,  handed  it  to  Michael  saying, 
with  graceful  irony,  "  'Ave  a  little  to  the  good  luck 
of  your  new  home." 

Michael  accepted  the  glass  with  unsteady  hands 
and  attempted  to  do  as  he  was  being  forced  to,  but 
as  the  glass  neared  his  nostrils,  the  horrible  smell 
almost  knocked  him  over.  He  pulled  his  head  back- 
ward and  began  to  cry,  probably  more  because  of 
his  anger  than  weakness. 

"  'Ere,  sir,  you  drink  every  bit  of  that  down,  or 
I'll  rake  the  skin  right  ofT  of  you."* 

He  grabbed  the  glass  tighter,  and  with  maddened 
effort,  dashed  the  contents  down  his  throat.  Oh, 
how  his  stomach  revolted  at  the  stuff — he  felt  very 
bad — dreadfully  bad.  Before  he  had  time  to  get  to 
the  pail  he  had  noticed  in  the  corner,  all  that  his 
stomach  contained  shot  from  his  mouth  upon  the 
floor  in  a  horrible  stream. 

"See  'ere,"  said  Mr,  Sarving,  a  little  frightened, 
but  hiding  his  fears  with  a  stamp  of  his  foot,  "you 
take  this  pail  and  this  mop  and  you  clean  up  every 
bit  of  that — not  a  speck  is  to  be  left." 

"  'Ay  there,  Billy,"  he  began  again,  addressing 
himself  to  the  hospital  boy,  when  Michael  showed 
signs  of  recovery,  "cut  the  'air  off  this  kid,"  then, 
turning  to  Michael,  "when  he  gets  through  with 
you,  when  'e  gets  all  your  'air  off,  go  to  that  basin 
and  with  plenty  of  soap  and  water  wash  your  'ead 
till  you've  killed  all  the  animals  in  it." 


*A  number  of  people  are  ready  to  testify  at  any  time  to 
the  existence  of  such  a  chemical  combination  and  to  its 
having  been  used  for  such  purposes. 


A   BUNCH   OP   LITTLE   THIEVES  39 

There  were  six  boys  in  quarantine,  and  they  ate 
their  dinner  on  their  laps  on  the  floor  of  a  side 
room.  The  dinners  consisted  of  some  meat,  ab- 
normally brown  gravy  and  two  sandwiches  of 
black  bread  and  ruby  red  jelly,  served  on  tin  plates; 
and  sitting  on  that  'floor  with  the  pewter  plate  on 
his  lap,  Michael  for  one,  thought  that  meal  good. 

Through  with  their  repast,  Mr.  Sarving  ordered 
a  general  cleaning  up.  To  let  a  new  boy  go  with 
the  minimum  of  instruction  was  against  his  peda- 
gogical principles.  "  'Ere,  'ere,"  kept  coming  in  and 
out.  "Come  back,  sir;  take  this  cloth  again,  sir, — 
this  isn't  what  we  call  clean,  out  'ere,  sir." 

Michael  was  engaged  in  polishing  up  Mr.  Sarv- 
ing's  bass  horn  in  a  room  on  the  second  floor,  when 
the  bell  rang  startlingly.  Manuel,  the  hospital  boy, 
gradually  acquiring  the  characteristics  of  his  super- 
ior, having  noticed  through  the  window  that  the 
bell  had  been  rung  by  two  boys  and  not  by  an  im- 
portant oflicial  or  visitor,  took  his  time  in  closing 
the  novel  the  nurse  had  loaned  him,  stretched  as  far 
as  his  arms  Vv^ould  reach,  and  step  by  step  made  his 
way  to  the  door.  He  opened  it  to  admit  a  large  boy 
hanging  on  to  a  blood-covered  smaller  one.  Mr, 
Sarving,  when  informed,  took  his  time  in  appear- 
ing, while  the  little  fellow,  his  face  petrified  into  a 
terrified  frown,  hung  on  with  both  hands  to  his 
head,  on  the  other  side  of  which  could  have  been 
seen  a  deep  gash  surrounded  by  blood-soaked  hair, 

"What'd  you  do,  'ay?  You'll  be  frisky,  Moses, 
will  you?" 

"I  fell,"  muttered  Moses. 

"Fell,  'ay!  None  of  that  lying  to  me.  With 
whom  did  you  fight?    'Ay  Moses?" 


40  A   BUNCH    OF   LITTLE   THIEVES 

"Colonel  Reilly  struck  him  upon  the  head  with  a 
stick,"  the  larger  boy  explained, 

"You  'old  your  mouth,  sir  Benedict,  and  talk 
when  you're  talked  to." 

The  story  having  been  brought  to  a  climax,  Mr. 
Sarving  proceeded  to  wash  the  wound,  and  shaved 
off  the  hair  about  it,  while  Moses  rent  the  air  with 
his  cries.  Mr.  Sarving  then  went  into  another  room 
and  soon  came  back  with  a  few  semi-circular 
needles  and  gut  thread.  At  sight  of  these  Moses 
turned  pale  and  began  to  stagger.  Mr.  Sarving  shot 
half  a  glassful  of  water  into  his  face  and  down 
his  neck.     Moses  braced  up  but  continued  crying. 

"Stop  that  noise,"  yelled  Mr.  Sarving,  "or  I'll 
run  these  needles  through  you."     And  he  did. 

One,  two,  three,  four  stitches.  Moses  bellowed 
frightfully,  and  Michael,  upstairs,  heard  every  bit  of 
it.  Michael  shivered,  tears  came  into  his  eyes  and 
he  determined  to  escape.  "This  is  their  cutting  up 
— they'll  do  it  to  me,  too."     He  looked  about. 

That  entire  night  his  little  brain  sweated  through 
the  horrors  that  lurk  about  and  fill  each  dark  corner 
of  a  blood-smeared  slaughter-house,  and  only  when 
a  faint  gray  light  dawned  in  the  east  was  his  sweat- 
ing interrupted  by  the  sweet  sounds  of  the  bugle 
boy. 

For  two  weeks  he  was  shut  up  in  the  gloom  of 
that  hospital,  and  only  his  having  learned  that  that 
was  not  where  he  was  to  remain  forever  kept  him 
from  becoming  desperate.  At  last  his  time  for  being 
discharged  from  quarantine,  came,  and  he  had  the 
pleasure  of  beholding  the  woods  and  the  beautiful 
colors  of  early  autumn;  and  a  great  desire  possessed 
him  to  be  free  and  to  run  to  the  golden  embrace  of 


A   BUNCH    OF   LITTLE    THIEVES  41 

the  nature  he  knew  Ultle  of,  but  instinctively 
trusted. 

The  place  seemed  quite  different  to  him  now 
from  what  it  did  when  he  had  first  seen  it.  His 
mind  was  too  occupied  then  with  what  might 
happen.  From  conversations  he  had  had  with  his 
fellows,  he  learned  a  number  of  things  about  the 
place  and,  though  some  of  them  were  not  very- 
pleasant  to  look  forward  to,  it  was  now  more  of  the 
known  and  less  of  the  unknown  to  him;  and  stand- 
ing as  he  did  on  the  main  roadway  of  the  Abolt 
School  grounds,  there  was  an  expression  of  resigna- 
tion in  his  face.  He  saw  that  the  reformatory  was 
built  on  a  long  hill  in  the  form  of  a  plateau,  that 
towards  the  east  and  west  it  sloped  down  into  a 
valley,  and  each  valley  climbed  up  again  and  formed 
another  hill,  the  western  one,  the  more  beautiful 
of  the  two.  It  was  more  beautiful  to  him,  too,  for 
it  lay  in  the  direction  whence  he  came,  and  the  sun 
went  down  beyond  it.  From  the  woods  of  its 
summit  rose  the  towers  of  a  monastery,  and  he 
wondered  what  they  were. 

He  was  taken  to  the  last  of  the  longest  row  of 
cottages.  It  was  to  be  his  home  for  a  while,  and  he 
liked  it. 


CHAPTER  IV 

COTTAGE  ONE,,  NUMBER  THIRTY-THREE 

Cottage  one  was  the  New  Comers'  cottage,  and 
locker  number  thirty-three  was  for  Michael's  belong- 
ings.    Mr.  and  Mrs.  Bloate  were  the  cottage  parents. 

"Michael,"  said  Mrs.  Bloate,  "thirty-three  is  to 
be  your  number — here  is  your  locker.  Gome  with 
me.  I  will  give  you  your  clothes.  After  supper  I 
will  show  you  how  to  sew  your  number  on  every 
piece  and  how  to  patch  up  the  holes.  You  are  to  keep 
these  clothes  and  see  that  no  holes  get  into  them. 
You  will  have  to  keep  yourself  clean  if  you  want  to 
get  along  here.  This  is  to  be  the  cleanest  cottage  on 
the  line.  Don't  forget  that,  as  soon  as  you  see  a 
hole  in  any  of  your  stockings,  you  must  mend  it." 

"Yes  ma'm,"  said  Michael,  with  a  sigh  of  relief, 
and  vowed  in  his  heart  that  he  would  always  do 
just  what  Mrs.  Bloate  wanted  him  to  do. 

Papa  Bloate  came  home  from  the  laundry,  where 
he  had  been  on  duty,  and  inquired,  "Where's  the 
new  boy?" 

"What's  your  name?"  when  Michael  was 
brought. 

"Michael." 

"I'm  glad  it's  not  Mikey,"  muttered  Mr.  Bloate. 
"William,"  turning  towards  the  stairway  and  calling 
for  his  cadet,  "take  this  fellow  downstairs,  drill 
him  in  marching  and  tell  him  general  rules.  See 
that  he  understands  you  and  that  he  does  what  you 
tell  him  to." 


A   BUNCH   OF   LITTLE   THIEVES  48 

Number  thirfy-three,  like  one,  ten,  or  twenty, 
was  taken  downstairs  by  the  all-important  William, 
and  impressed  with  his  all-importance,  which  im- 
pression was  supported  by  a  push,  a  pull,  a  jerk,  or 
a  slang  expression.  "Keep  your  ears  open,"  though 
he  could  not  have  listened  more  attentively.  "Step 
lively,"  or  "Get  a  move  on  you,"  though  his  nervous- 
ness was  shoving  him  much  ahead  of  time.  "Now 
do  what  I  tell  you  to,  do  you  hear?"  though  not  a 
thing  he  did  had  any  possible  chance  of  looking  as 
though  he  had  the  slightest  intention  of  not  doing 
so. 

The  first  supper  bugle  blew.  The  thirty-one 
boys  lined  up  like  little  prisoners,  one  almost  on  top 
of  the  other,  and  to  the  haughty  orders  of  William, 
marked  time,  bending  knees  into  knees.  One  fel- 
low was  out  of  step,  another  had  his  cap  on  his  right 
shoulder  when  the  order  was  for  the  left.  William 
stole  up  cat-like  and  administered  to  each  a  humiliat- 
ing and  painful  kick.  There  were  others  treated  in 
the  same  manner,  but  not  one  showed  a  sign  of  re- 
bellion, save  perhaps  by  their  burning  cheeks;  but 
there  was  no  one  there  to  read  that  as  a  sign  of  re- 
bellion or  rebellious  feelings. 

Into  this  inhuman  line  destiny  had  worked  him, 
and  he  took  his  place  as  number  thirty-three.  They 
marched  down  into  the  basement  and  washed. 
They  marched  up  again  and  marking  time,  waited 
for  a  second  bugle,  when  they  marched  again  to 
the  flag-pole  in  the  center,  one  boy  almost  upon  the 
other,  and  a  cadet  at  the  side  of  each  cottage  group, 
singing  out  in  a  commanding  monotony,  "Hip,  hip, 
hip,  hip,"  for  the  rest  of  the  distance. 


44  A    BUNCH    OF   LITTLE    THIEVES 

Near  the  flag-pole  stood  a  tall,  stout  individual, 
dressed  in  a  blue  uniform  with  brass  buttons  and 
epaulettes,  and  wearing  white  gloves.  There  was 
a  significant  severity  written  all  over  his  flabby  face, 
and  every  boy  knew  what  it  meant.  As  each  cottage 
group  approached  him  the  order  was  given:  "Left 
hand,  salute!"  and  every  left  hand  went  up  in- 
stantly. 

When  each  cottage  group  was  in  its  place,  a 
square  was  formed  about  the  flag-pole.  Colonel 
Reilly,  with  the  air  of  a  real  general,  stepped  to  one 
side,  and  in  his  military  voice  called  out:  "Batta- 
lion!    At-ten-shun!     Cottage  one,  report!" 

William  stepped  out  of  his  line,  and  with  the 
military  fashion  exemplified  by  the  colonel,  reported, 
"Thirty-one  present!  Blickfield  on  the  farm,  Moses 
in  the  hospital." 

"Cottage  two,  report!" 

"Twenty-nine  present.  Schaefer  in  the  coop, 
Marlberg  in  the  dining-room." 

Cottage  after  cottage  was  ordered  to  report  and 
each  time  Michael  heard  the  word  coop,  he  wonder- 
ed. Serving  room,  farm,  or  kitchen  he  could  well 
make  out,  but  "coop"  worried  him.  Besides  an 
almost  audible  feeling  passed  from  boy  to  boy  along 
the  lines  every  time  the  word  was  mentioned. 

Two  boys  loosened  the  ropes  on  the  flag-pole, 
and  the  Colonel  ordered  "Caps  off!" 

Then  the  bugle  began  to  blow.  Michael  stood 
facing  the  monastery  on  the  western  hill.  He  knew 
very  little  about  western  evening  skies,  but  circum- 
stances now  allowed  nature  to  teach  him  about  it, 
and  he  began  to  feel. 

The  flag  was  lowered. 


A   BUNCH    OF   LITTLE   THIEVES  45 


"Caps— on!" 

"Battalion — to  tlie  riglit — march!" 

To  the  measured  rhythm  of  the  drum  beat,  filHng 
the  air  with  noise,  and  the  fearful  commanding 
"hip,  hip,  hip,"  three  hundred  pairs  of  little  feet 
ground  the  pebbles  on  the  walk,  leading  to  the 
dining-room. 

The  Colonel  stood,  a  statue  of  Hercules,  at  the 
head  of  the  few  cement  steps  leading  to  the  ivy- 
covered  dining  room  and,  as  the  boys  hipped  by,  he 
was  saluted. 

The  dining-room  was  extremely  long,  and  con- 
sisted of  two  rows  of  alcoves,  each  alcove  containing 
a  long  table  surrounded  by  thirty  or  more  chairs, 
to  seat  all  the  boys  of  a  single  cottage. 

Every  one  entered  and  remained  standing  back 
of  his  own  chair.  The  Colonel  held  a  small  bell, 
which  he  rang  when  the  room  was  silent.  A  small 
boy  came  out  upon  the  center  of  the  floor  and 
hurried  through  a  formal  prayer.  The  bell  rang 
again,  and  three  hundred  chairs  were  pulled  out  and 
made  use  of.  A  sound  like  that  of  Niagara  poured 
out  of  the  alcoves  into  the  center  of  the  room.  Plates 
clashed  upon  plates,  and  knives  and  forks  upon 
knives  and  forks  and  on  the  floor.  What  stories 
were  told!  What  discussions  held  forth!  Each 
wrinkled  brow  held  something  that  had  to  be  given 
out,  and  all  talked  at  the  same  time. 

A  short  half  hour  passed  by;  the  Niagara  of 
sound  was  hushed  by  another  touch  of  the  little 
bell.    Every  boy  was  on  his  feet — cap  on  shoulder. 

Another  boy  stepped  out  upon  the  center  of  the 
floor  and  rushed  through  a  short  formal  grace,  the 
bame  that  had  been  used  for  an  endless  number  of 


46  A   BUNCH    OF   LITTLE   THIEVES 

days  before.  The  Colonel  detailed  different  boys  to 
different  duties,  and  the  rest  in  military  order 
marched  out,  on  their  way  to  their  respective 
cottages. 

The  moment  the  playground  back  of  each  cot- 
tage was  reached,  the  lines  were  broken,  and  each 
youngster  let  loose  in  his  own  way.  Some  ran,  some 
jumped,  some  threw  stones,  some  merely  stretched 
and  rolled  over  on  the  ground,  some  stood  on  their 
heads,  while  a  few  sat  down  to  read  books  carried  in 
their  blouses.  Michael  ran  around  a  bit,  just  to  get 
rid  of  the  cramped  feeling,  then  sat  down  near  Wil- 
liam, whom  he  respected  and  disliked  at  the  same 
time,  to  look  out  over  the  valley,  upon  the  hill,  the 
monastery,  the  soft  floating  clouds,  and  the  red  sky. 
William  sat  with  a  long  stick  in  his  hands.  He 
watched  the  boys  and  beat  the  ground  with  his  stick. 

"Got  all  your  clothes?"  asked  William. 

"Just  what  I  got  on,"  said  Michael. 

"You  got  to  get  more.  You'll  get  them  to-mor- 
row, I  guess." 

There  was  something  warm  and  friendly  in  Wil- 
liam's attitude,  although  he  did  look  away  as  he 
talked,  and  had  a  kind  of  habitual  frown  upon  his 
face;  and  Michael,  his  heart  filling  with  gratitude, 
felt  himself  invited  to  talk. 

"You  here  long?"  he  wanted  to  know. 

"More  than  my  time,  but  they  won't  let  me  go, 
because  they  can  make  use  of  me.  If  they  don't 
let  me  go  soon  I'll  run  away — don't  snitch  on  me 
now." 

"Cross  my  heart — never,"  said  Michael,  full  of 
emotion,  "I'd  like  to  run  away  myself." 

"Don't,  it's  better  not  to.    They  only  catch  you 


A   BUNCH    OF   LITTLE    THIEVES  47 

anj^vay— an'  it's  worse.  You  got  to  take  your  lick- 
in'  an'  go  to  the  coop  for  two  weeks.  The  best 
thing,"  shaking  his  head,  "you  do  as  they  tell  you 
to,  try  hard,  live  through  the  two  years  and  get  away 
as  quick  as  you  can.  Take  my  advice,  don't  try  to 
get  any  jobs — if  you  make  good  they  never  let  you 
go.  I  do  more  than  a  cottage  father  here.  Why 
should  they  let  me  go?  But  I'm  going  to  go  anyway 
— I'll  make  them  let  me  go." 

"Is  Bloate  good  to  you?"  asked  Michael. 

"Naw — he's  good  to  me  because  I  help  him  a 
lot— but  the  fellows  hate  him.  I  wish  I  was  out  of 
here.  Wait  till  you're  here  a  little,  and  old  man 
Bloate  comes  in  from  his  day  off,  drunk.  Take  my 
advice,  do  what  he  tells  you,  if  it's  to  eat  dirt — you'll 
be  better  off." 

It  grew  dark.  The  monastery  and  the  woods  be- 
came one,  and  the  red  in  the  sky  grew  into  a  gray- 
ish blue.  William  announced  it  was  time  to  turn 
in,  and  every  one  of  them  filed  into  the  basement 
which  was  now  all  lit  up. 

"I  told  you  to  sew  your  initials  on  all  your 
clothes,  didn't  I?"  said  Mrs.  Bloate  to  Michael,  as 
soon  as  she  saw  him. 

Michael  was  about  to  say  that  he  thought  she 
meant  when  they  all  went  in,  but  he  thought  it  saf- 
er to  take  what's  coming  and  say  nothing,  so  he 
merely  hung  his  head. 

"I'm  afraid  you're  one  of  those  lazy  fellows," 
went  on  Mrs.  Bloate.  "You'd  better  get  over  that 
quick,  or  it'll  go  hard  with  you  here." 

He  followed  her  meekly  into  the  sewing  room, 
and  sewed  away  as  hard  and  fast  as  he  could,  mak- 
ing poor  looking  initials  and  figures  on  every  piece 


48  A   BUNCH    OF   LITTLE   THIEVES 

of  clothes  that  was  to  belong  to  him.  "If  I  don't 
dare  to  answer  you  that  I  am  not  lazy,  I  will  show 
it  to  you,"  thought  he  to  himself. 

"It's  almost  time  to  go  to  bed,"  said  Mrs.  Bloats 
when  he  was  through.  "Go  down  to  the  basement 
where  the  rest  of  the  boys  are." 

Down  stairs  he  found  many  of  them  noisily 
jumping  about,  playing,  fighting,  and  telling  stor- 
ies, but  no  sooner  had  he  gotten  down  there  than  the 
order  was  given  to  "fall  in."  Every  boy  fell  into  line 
immediately  and,  upon  a  second  command,  bent 
down  to  unlace  his  shoes  and  take  them  off.  Anoth- 
er military  command,  and  there,  with  caps  and 
shoes  in  hand,  they  stood  with  stockinged  feet  upon 
the  cement  floor,  saying  their  prayers  in  regular, 
monotonous,  suppressed  voices — thirty-two  of  them. 
Their  prayers  said,  they  marched  into  the  other 
room  of  the  basement,  where  they  washed,  marched 
up  stairs  to  their  lockers  to  put  their  clothes  away, 
and  filed  into  the  dormitories  each  to  his  own  little 
bed. 

By  this  time  the  grounds  were  deserted,  not  one 
pair  of  little  feet  was  upon  the  gravel  walks.  Every 
one  of  the  dozen  dormitories  was  aglow  with  light, 
and  their  windows  were  like  great  eyes  in  the  night. 
Then  one  by  one  the  eyelids  drooped,  the  lights  went 
out;  and,  just  as  the  clock  in  the  school  hallway 
sounded  the  first  beat  of  eight,  one  little  fellow  made 
his  way  to  the  lonely  flag-pole,  touched  the  bugle  to 
his  lips,  sent  a  sweet  welcome  to  the  stars  and  a 
melancholy  "good  night"  to  more  than  three  hun- 
dred of  his  comrades.  When  the  last  note  of  taps 
died  away  in  the  fragrant  stillness  out-doors,  Mich- 
ael pulled  the  blanket  up  to  his  neck,  placed  Jws 


A   BUNCH   OF   LITTLE   THIEVES  49 

right  cheek  upon  his  right  hand  and  went  to  sleep. 
Outdoors  the  long  gray  roadways  led  from  cottage 
to  cottage,  unused,  and  the  white  stones  along  their 
sides  looked  up  to  the  sky  and  drew  down  what  lit- 
tle light  was  left  there. 


CHAPTER  V 

UNOILED  MACHINERY 

Another  morning  dawned.  Such  mornings  come 
to  intensify  the  desire  to  live,  A  perfect  sky  with 
immaculately  white  cloudlets  here  and  there  to  pre- 
vent a  trace  of  monotony.  No  mists  about  to  mysti- 
fy. The  woods,  the  hills,  every  feature  of  the  great 
panorama  intensely  sharp  and  clear.  The  colors 
pouring  out  over  the  universe  with  a  sublime 
strength,  and  the  air,  invigorating  and  hypnotic 
in  its  fragrance,  found  every  free  man  and  every 
free  creature  bubbling  over  with  optimism  and  the 
desire  to  do.  Every  sound  that  rang  through  the 
valley — the  playful  cry  of  children,  the  barking  of 
dogs,  and  the  farmer's  call  to  his  son  across  the 
summer  fallowed  fields,  were  rounded  out  in  the 
atmosphere  till  they  poured  out  like  the  notes  of  a 
symphony.  The  bugle  blew  in  the  morning  upon 
Abolt  School,  and  never  before  were  children  more 
delighted  with  getting  up  and  going  out.  Even  the 
few  who  had  spent  the  night  on  a  hard  board  floor 
with  iron  cuffs  on  their  bony  little  hands,  crawled 
up  to  the  barred  windows  and  pressed  their  little 
faces  hard  against  them,  drank  in  their  tiny  part 
of  the  atmosphere,  and  sent  out  their  message  of 
gladness  to  melt  in  the  open  space  of  the  universe — 
they  shouted  through  those  bars,  though  they  did 
not  exactly  know  why. 

The  usual  commands  resulted  in  their  being 
washed,  combed  and  on  line;  and  the  usual  "hip, 
hip,  hip,"  took  them  one  close  upon  the  other  to  the 


A    BUNCH    OF    LITTLE    THIEVES  51 

flag-pole,  where,  towards  the  sky,  and  seemingly 
above  the  golden  vistas  extending  in  every  direction, 
they  sent  the  flag  to  wave.  The  flag  up,  they  were 
turned  about  towards  the  dining  room,  from  where 
odors  of  cofTee  came  to  invite  them,  and,  soon  they 
were  "hipped"  in  for  their  breakfast. 

After  breakfast  they  were  marched  back  to  the 
playground  back  of  the  school  building,  and  were 
sent  to  their  class  lines,  where  they  were  to  wait  for 
the  school  bell.     Michael  was  sent  into  the  office. 

"Jacque!"  called  out  Miss  Trunch,  the  queer- 
looking  stenographer,  with  her  eyes  heavenward, 
and  her  collar  still  choking  her,  "take  this  boy  to 
Miss  Britter  and  tell  her  he  is  ready  for  school." 

"What's  Miss  Britter?"  asked  Michael  softly,  in 
the  hallway. 

"Principal." 

Michael  stood  himself  up  as  straight  as  he  could 
tn  Miss  Britter's  very  narrow^  office,  to  wait  with 
several  others  until  she  should  return. 

"Are  you  a  second  striper.  Bill?"  asked  Jack  of 
one  of  the  boys  standing  there. 

"Yes." 

"All  right,  watch  this  fellow,  will  you?  I  have 
to  go  back  to  the  office." 

Micliael  was  hurt.  "Why  should  I  be  watched?" 
he  asked  himself. 

But  Bill  paid  little  attention  to  him,  and  he  forgot 
the  insult  and,  in  his  own  way,  and  for  his  own 
])rivate  reasons,  examined  everything  there  his  eyes 
could  reach.  There  really  was  not  a  thing  there  to 
be  afraid  of.  No  whipping  machines — not  even  a 
strap.  The  only  ruler  there  looked  very  innocent 
and    unused    to    anything    but    measuring.     There 


52  A    BUNCH    OF    LITTLE   THIEVES 

were  papers,  books,  maps,  a  vase  with  flowers  in 
it,  a  statuette,  and  no  stick  save  the  window  pole. 

Miss  Britter  entered.  A  young  woman  of  thirty, 
tall  and  extremely  neat  and  graceful.  A  stern  face, 
yet  the  kind  that  adults  as  well  as  children  in- 
stinctively trust.  She  was  the  sort  of  a  woman  that 
can  make  children  do  just  as  she  wants  them  to 
without  losing  the  slightest  amount  of  their  love — 
who  can  talk  quietly  and  without  excitement  in 
exciting  times,  and  who  can,  when  she  deems  it 
necessary,  act  the  part  of  a  little  friend  and  play- 
mate with  remarkable  interest  and  sincerity. 

She  led  a  dark  chubby  little  fellow  of  five  by  the 
hand.  His  large  gray  eyes  recognized  all  the  boys 
standing  there,  and  his  roughened  baby  lips  smiled 
to  them,  and  not  one  there,  with  the  possible  excep- 
tion of  the  new  boy,  but  would  have  gladly  grabbed 
the  little  fellow  and  run  about  the  hall  with  him 
upon  his  shoulder,  just  as  they  all  did  in  the  base- 
ment playground  or  on  the  playground  out  of  doors. 
Miss  Britter  pulled  out  a  box  of  clay  blocks  from 
the  lowest  drawer  in  her  desk  and  asked  him  to 
build  a  "house"  or  a  "bridge,"  then  sat  down  in 
her  chair  and  began  to  write. 

One  boy  after  another  was  respectfully  attended 
to  and  dismissed.     Michael  and  Billy  were  left. 

"Ready  for  school,  are  you?"  she  asked  Michael, 
reading  his  name  from  a  list  she  held  before  her. 

"Yes,  ma'm." 

"Good.  What  grade  were  you  in,  Michael,  when 
you  were  in  the  city?" 

"I  was  in  the  six  B,"  said  Michael,  then  adding 
with  a  tone  of  regret,  "but  I  don't  know  much.  I 
stayed  away  too  much," 


A   BUNCH    OF   LITTLE   THIEVES  53 

"Well,  we'll  work  hard  here,  and  you  can  make 
up.  You  look  like  a  very  bright  boy.  I  think  you 
will  be  one  of  my  all  'A'  boys.  I'm  going  to  send 
you  to  Miss  Brand's  class.  As  soon  as  you  show 
me  that  you  can  do  the  work  I  will  send  you  higher." 

"William,  take  Michael  to  your  class  room  and 
give  this  note  to  Miss  Brand.  Then  come  back  and 
we'll  talk  things  over." 

William  left  with  Michael  following  him,  and 
having  done  all  that  was  asked  of  him,  returned  to 
Miss  Britter's  office,  where  he  found  her  writing. 

"Now,  William,  what  has  happened  to  you  so 
early  in  the  morning?"  she  asked,  looking  up  at 
him. 

William  looked  over  at  Tony  playing  with  his 
blocks. 

"That's  right,"  she  said  again,  "before  we  begin 
to  talk  things  over,  take  Tony  back  to  his  class  room. 
Now,  listen,  Tony,"  turning  to  him,  "you  may  take 
these  blocks  with  you  to  your  class  room  and  play 
with  them  there;  but  you  musn't  talk  out  loud — 
that  bothers  your  teacher  and  the  rest  of  the  boys. 
Do  you  think  you  can  play  with  them  quietly?" 

"Y-y-yes,  ma'm,"  said  Tony,  "I'll  make  a  b-b-big 
house." 

"Good,  and  when  you  fmish  it,  draw  a  picture  of 
it  for  me,  and  I'll  hang  it  up  right  over  my  desk — 
here." 

Tony's  ambition  was  aroused  to  such  an  extent 
that  he  fairly  flew  across  the  hall  to  get  to  his  room 
to  begin.  William  saw  that  he  reached  home  and 
returned. 

"Now,  William,  tell  me  what  has  happened." 

"She  won't  have  me  in  the  room,  that's  all.    She 


54  A   BUNCH   OF   LITTLE   THIEVES 

said  so.  I  came  into  the  room,  didn't  do  a  single 
thing,  and  she  got  mad  at  me  as  soon  as  she  saw  me, 
and  said  I  should  go  out  to  see  you." 

"You  mean  Miss  Brand?" 

William  saw  his  mistake,  "Yes,  ma'm." 

"Do  you  mean  to  tell  me  that  you  walked  into 
the  room,  didn't  do  a  single  thing  and  that  for  that 
Miss  Brand  sent  you  out?" 

"Yes,  ma'm.  I'd  tell  you  the  truth  if  it  wasn't  so. 
I  always  told  you  the  truth." 

"Yes,  that  is  so,  but  don't  you  think  that  some- 
thing about  the  way  in  which  you  walked  in  might 
have  been  disrespectful  to  Miss  Brand?" 

"No,  ma'm,  I  never  meant  it  that  way.  I  am  not 
looking  for  more  reports.  I  want  to  go  home  as 
soon  as  I  can — my  mother  needs  me." 

"I'll  tell  you  what  I  will  do.  You  take  this  note 
to  Miss  Brand  and  be  very  careful  about  the  way  in 
which  you  walk  into  her  room,  do  the  very  best  you 
can,  and  after  school  I  will  ask  Miss  Brand  to  come 
down  here  and  you  can  explain  before  her.  We 
will  see  what  the  trouble  has  been  and  try  to  settle 
it  quietly  together." 

Miss  Britter  had  been  busily  at  work  upon  the 
revision  of  the  curriculum,  about  half  an  hour  after 
William  had  left  her  alone  in  the  office,  when  she 
was  startled  by  the  gruff  voice  of  the  Colonel  saying, 
"Hospital  list,"  sticking  his  white  gloved  hand  in  at 
the  door  holding  the  hospital  list,  and  apparently 
interested  in  something  going  on  at  the  other  end  of 
the  hall. 

Miss  Britter  rose  to  take  the  list  from  him,  and  as 
he  started  off,  called  out,  "Just  a  minute,  Mr.  Reilly." 


A   BUiNCH    OF   LITTLE   THIEVES  55 

She  returned  to  her  seat  at  the  desk  and  he  stuck 
his  angry  face  in  at  the  doorway.     "Well?" 

"Will  you  tell  me,  please,  why  Moses  is  still  in 
the  hospital?" 

"That's  none  of  my  affairs,  Mr.  Sarving's  got  the 
run  of  that." 

"What  is  the  matter  with  him?" 

"I  can't  tell  you  that  either — I  don't  know." 

"Well  now,  Colonel,  Moses  has  got  to  come  back, 
or  ril  know  why  he  is  there.  It's  about  time  that 
this  keeping  of  boys  out  of  school  for  mysterious 
reasons  is  stopped." 

"You  know  whom  to  see  about  that." 

"Where  is  Brown?" 

"Brown  is  in  the  coop." 

"What  has  he  done?" 

"Struck  back  at  a  superior." 

"And  Lane?" 

"The  same." 

"Where  is  Schaefer?" 

"Run  away.  He's  now  serving  in  the  coop. 
Two  weeks." 

The  Colonel  impatiently  left,  and  Miss  Britter 
went  back  at  her  work,  but  didn't  work  very  long. 
She  grabbed  a  sheet  of  paper  and  began  putting- 
down  a  whole  list  of  grievances,  then  got  up  and 
made  for  the  superintendent's  office. 

She  came  into  the  room  where  Michael  had  stood 
against  the  wall  the  first  few  hours  after  his  arrival. 

"Mr.  Lapin,  please  tell  Superintendent  Krammer 
I  would  like  to  see  him  for  a  few  minutes." 

Mr.  Lapin,  the  queer-looking  bookkeeper,  raised 
his  golden  head,  the  ears  of  which,  at  obtuse  angles, 
shot  away  from  his  crop  of  hair,  with  a  grin  that 


56  A   BUNCH    OF   LITTLE   THIEVES 

made  still  longer  his  abnormally  long  mouth,  smiled 
and  said  slowly  and  sweetly,  "Mr.  Krammer  is 
busy." 

"How  do  you  know?" 

"The  Colonel  just  went  in." 

Miss  Britter  left  the  office  and  returned  half  an 
hour  later.  "Tell  Mr.  Krammer  I  would  like  to  see 
him,"  she  said  again. 

"If  he  isn't  busy,"  with  the  grin  repeated. 

Miss  Britter  looked  at  him  a  moment  with 
disgust.  "Please  be  kind  enough  to  attend  to  your 
business,  and  tell  Mr.  Krammer  that  I  wish  to  see 
him." 

Mr.  Lapin  then  announced  Miss  Britter,  and  Mr. 
Krammer  asked  her  to  come  in. 

Mr.  Krammer,  well  fed  and  bearded,  bearded  for 
a  purpose,  sat  in  his  lordly  seat  before  a  large  desk 
at  one  end  of  his  spacious  private  offices,  the  walls 
of  which  were  hung  with  pictures  of  the  reforma- 
tory buildings,  and  in  the  center  of  which  stood  a 
long  library  table,  surrounded  by  chairs. 

"Good  morning.  Miss  Britter,"  said  Mr.  Kram- 
mer, pleasantly.  Mr.  Krammer's  facial  expression 
always  betrayed  the  control  of  two  forces — bitter 
feelings  lurking  out  of  fiery  eyeballs,  and  a  reddish 
face  that  usually  contorted  itself  into  diplomatic 
good  humor.  Often  the  first  would  dominate.  Then 
his  face  would  turn  pale,  and  his  breath  come  quick 
and  a  long  continued  throat  clearing  performance 
would  follow. 

Miss  Britter  calmly  took  one  of  the  chairs  about 
the  library  table,  brought  it  near  to  his  desk,  and  sat 
down.  Mr.  Krammer  leaned  back  in  his  chair  and 
clasped  his  hands. 


A    BUNCH    OF    LITTLE   THIEVES  57 

"Mr.  Krammer,"  she  began,  "I  wish  to  speak  to 
you  about  many  things." 

"Yes." 

"First,  my  ninth  grade  is  in  need  of  classics." 

"More  books!" 

"Yes,  Mr.  Krammer,  we  must  have  them." 

Mr.  Krammer  began  to  clear  his  throat.  "We 
have  spent  too  much  on  books  already.  Since  you 
came  here.  Miss  Britter,  we  have  spent  altogether  too 
much  on  books — too  much  entirely." 

"There  were  no  books  here  when  I  came — we 
had  to  buy  very  many,  of  course;  and  we  haven't 
enough  yet." 

"There  were  enough  to  my  notion.  When  I  was 
a  boy  and  went  to  one  of  those  rickety  old  school 
houses,"  Mr.  Krammer's  fiery  eyes  softened  down 
and  he  smiled  sweetly,  "the  teacher  was  the  only 
possessor  of  text  books.  Every  lesson  was  written 
on  the  blackboard  and  we  copied  it," 

"Then  you  believe  we  ought  to  go  back  to  rickety 
old  buildings?" 

"No,  not  at  all!  That's  not  my  idea,  Miss  Britter. 
I  am  a  great  believer  in  being  thankful  for  what 
one's  got.  No,  Miss  Britter,  you  mean  well,  but  you 
know,  you  are  giving  them  too  much  education. 
What  they  need  to  know  is  how  to  work  and  to 
work  willingly  and  obey  their  superiors.  Most  of 
them  will  do  much  better  as  carpenters  and  shoe- 
makers than  college  graduates.  You  must  admit 
that." 

"Mr.  Krammer,  you  boasted  of  having  a  high 
school  class  in  your  last  annual  report,  didn't  you?" 

"For  some  of  the  boys  we  might  have  one,  if  it 
doesn't  interfere  with  more  important  things." 


58  A   BUNCH    OF   LITTLE   THIEVES 

"But  we  are  not  classifying  the  boys  just  now, 
nor  are  we  considering  any  complaints  against  it. 
We  have  a  high  school  class — what  sort  of  a  thing 
is  it  going  to  be?" 

"They  have  all  the  other  books  they  need,  can't 
the  classic  be  put  on  the  board?" 

"Evangeline  on  the  board?  Surely  you  don't 
want  to  pay  your  teachers  for  writing  Evangeline 
on  the  board — it  would  take  a  month." 

"What  will  Evangeline  cost?  How  manv  do  you 
need?" 

"We  need  thirty  copies." 

"Can't  we  buy  fifteen  and  make  two  of  them  use 
one?" 

"It  makes  it  very  hard.  Besides  they  have  the 
chance  of  laying  all  the  blame  of  misuse  on  the 
other  fellow.  I  think  it  would  be  more  economical 
to  buy  thirty  copies." 

"Well,  send  in  your  requisition  to  Mr.  Lapin." 

"Now,  Mr.  Krammer,  this  brings  me  to  another 
matter." 

"Yes!" 

"I'm  afraid  that  it's  impossible  for  Mr.  Kurt  to 
do  anything  with  that  High  School  class.  He  has 
no  discipline  at  all  and  knows  nothing  about  teach- 
ing, which  is  really  the  cause  of  the  latter." 

"What  these  boys  need  is  a  little  handling  by  a 
bigger  power.  You  won't  admit  that.  I  think  I'll 
send  Colonel  Reilly  in  and  have  him  attend  to  them." 

"But  it  is  not  the  boys'  fault,  it  is  the  fault  of  the 
man.  Why  punish  them?  He  is  absolutely  unfit. 
Besides,  Mr.  Krammer,  I  thought  we  agreed  that  Mr. 
Reilly  is  to  have  nothing  to  do  with  the  school. 
You  admitted  to  me  the  other  day  that  he  is  an  ignor- 


A   BUNCH    OF   LITTLE   THIEVES  59 

ant  army  officer.  I  cannot  and  will  not  share  the 
responsibility  of  this  school  with  an  ignorant  army 
officer." 

"Well,  I  thought  in  a  case  like  this,  where  the 
boys  are  rebellious,  a  man  like  the  Colonel  would 
be  of  service  to  you." 

"But  I  insist  it  is  not  the  boys'  fault.  It's  Mr. 
Kurt  who  needs  to  be  attended  to.  The  other  day 
I  came  into  the  class  room  and  found  him  arguing 
with  a  boy  near  his  desk  on  baseball  championship, 
while  the  rest  of  the  class  were  piled  up  in  a  corner, 
reading  a  newspaper.  Suppose  one  of  the  Board 
of  Directors  should  suddenly  step  in?" 

The  last  sentence  was  the  most  convincing  of  all, 
and  touching  a  weak  spot  in  the  superintendent's 
policies.  Mr.  Krammer  stroked  his  pointed  beard 
and  glanced  sidewise.  "Would  you  have  me  sus- 
pend him  at  once?" 

"You  might  just  as  well  for  all  the  good  his  re- 
maining here  will  do;  but  we  must  have  another 
teacher  soon." 

"All  right,"  making  a  note  of  it,  "I  will  fire  him 
today,  and  when  in  the  city  to-morrow  I  will  look 
up  a  few  teachers'  agencies." 

Miss  Britter  looked  down  the  list  of  things  to 
talk  about  which  she  had  brought  with  her.  "Oh, 
yes,"  she  began,  "has  Mr.  Sarving  the  right  to  keep 
any  boy  he  wishes  and  as  long  as  he  pleases  at  that 
mysterious  hospital  of  his?" 

Mr.  Krammer  turned  pale,  and  began  to  cough. 

"Boys  are  kept  out  of  school  continually,"  she 
went  on,  "and  the  only  excuse  I  get  is  that  they  are 
in  the  hospital." 


60  A   BUNCH   OF   LITTLE   THIEVES 

"No  boy  is  sent  to  the  hospital  unless  he  has  to 
go  there." 

"I  know  that  boys  go  there  mysteriously  and  stay 
there  mysteriously,  and  then  come  and  complain  to 
me.  The  man  knows  nothing  about  medicine, 
claiming  nothing  more  than  the  certificate  as  an 
orderly  in  a  Turkish  bath  house,  and  he  doses  those 
boys  with  awful  mixtures.  He  is  a  secluded  sort  of 
a  fellow  and  is  never  seen  outside  of  the  hospital." 

"Miss  Britter,  this  whole  affair  is  not  in  your 
province." 

"I  don't  see  why  not,  Mr.  Krammer,  when  boys 
coming  back  from  Mr.  Sarving's  den,  who  have 
never  had  anything  but  respect  for  me  and  for  the 
teachers,  are  suddenly  found  uncontrollable  and  in- 
sulting, and,  what  is  worse,  filthy  minded.  Isn't 
that  in  my  province?" 

"You  should  tell  me  this,  that's  right.  I  will 
attend  to  it.  I  will  look  into  the  matter  closely." 
Mr.  Krammer  took  his  handy  little  pad  and  began 
to  write.  "Thank  you  for  telling  me.  I  will  in- 
vestigate." 

Miss  Britter  left  the  office.  When  she  reached 
the  hallway  she  found  it  was  eleven-thirty,  and  time 
for  noon  dismissal  bells.  A  few  minutes  later  the 
hallways  were  filled  with  boys  on  their  way  out. 

She  straightened  everything  on  her  desk,  took 
her  wraps,  locked  her  office  door  and  stood  in  the 
hallway  waiting. 

A  class-room  door  opened  and  a  young  man  of 
about  twenty-two  was  concluding  the  admonishing 
of  his  class  for  misbehavior;  then,  finally  satisfied 
with  the  line  they  made,  sent  them  out.  When  tlie 
last  boy  had  disappeared  down  the  stairway,  he 


A   BUNCH    OF   LITTLE   THIEVES  61 

came  back  with  an  expression  of  relief  and  smilingly 
said,  "Lost  in  thought?" 

"Yes.  Don't  you  want  to  go  for  a  little  walk,  Mr. 
Rolan?" 

"Sure." 

Miss  Britter  was  in  a  hurry,  and  Mr.  Rolan  simply 
followed  her,  so  that  before  long  they  were  quite  a 
distance  beyond  the  farmhouse,  and  were  turning 
down  a  hidden  road  that  branched  off  to  the  left. 

"We  musn't  go  too  far,  or  we'll  miss  our  tough 
old  meat." 

"Well  you  like  that  kind  of  fare,"  said  Miss 
Britter,  glad  to  get  into  that  trend  of  discussion. 

"/  like  it?" 

"Evidently." 

"How  do  you  make  that  out?" 

"You  don't  complain.     You  stand  for  it  all." 

"Why  do  you  stand  for  it?" 

"Because  I  am  a  woman,  and  alone  in  my  fight. 
Besides,  I  am  preparing  not  to  stand  for  it.  Of 
course,  there  are  worse  things  to  fight  against  here. 
We  can  go  away  to-night  and  get  a  good  meal ;  but 
there  are  evil  influences  brought  to  bear  upon  these 
children,  which,  to  some  extent  at  least,  will  produce 
evil  effects  that  will  not  be  as  easily  eradicated,  and 
some  of  them  perhaps  will  never  be  remedied." 

"Well,  you  have  realized  the  difficulty  of  chang- 
ing matters,  and  are  waiting  for  an  opportunity. 
How  do  you  know  but  that  I,  too,  have  been  figuring 
things  out  in  that  way?  It  is  useless  to  get  up  and 
howl.  I  am  not  a  giant  in  any  one  direction,  I 
admit,  and  therefore  wait  upon  others.  You  are; 
go  ahead;  I'll  stand  by  what  is  right  in  my  opinion. 
T  have  seen  tlie  wrongs  hero  at  least,  almost  as  clearly 


62  A    BUNCH    OF    LITTLE    THIEVES 

as  you  have.  But  I  repeat,  that  I  have  said  and  done 
nothing  because  I  don't  believe  I  can  do  anything 
but  get  into  trouble,  or  make  matters  worse  if  I 
try.  I  have  seen  things  done  here  that  have  made 
my  blood  boil,  but  what  could  I  do?" 

"Mr.  Rolan,  you  are  an  intelligent  young  man. 
I  don't  know  how  far  I  may  tell  you  what  I  think. 
I  must  say  though,  since  you  have  forced  it  upon  me 
in  that  way,  that  you  have  not  resented  those  things 
you  speak  of,  and  you  have  blandly  smiled  along." 

"I  think  it's  unfair  for  you  to  speak  that  way." 

"Do  I  speak  truthfully  when  I  say  that  I  have 
seen  you  sit  by  at  the  table  and  smile  when  a 
wretched  cottage  father  told  of  some  very  clever, 
brutal,  unfair  trick  that  he  played  upon  some 
youngster,  unable  to  protect  himself?" 

"I  know  what  you  have  reference  to,  and  I  can 
see  where  you  are  half  right.  I  should  not  have 
encouraged  Mr.  Gallwin  by  laughing;  on  the  other 
hand,  I  am  only  human.  You  must  admit  that  Mr. 
Gallwin  is  witty — what  he  said  struck  me  as  funny. 
I  did  not  look  as  deeply  into  the  matter  as  you  did. 
Still  further,  Miss  Britter,  what  am  I  to  do?  If  I 
don't  laugh  with  those  fellows,  they  will  immediately 
consider  me  an  enemy,  and  do  everything  they  can 
against  me,  and  not  a  thing  of  importance  will  be 
gained." 

"You  don't  know  anybody  that  would  come  out 
here  and  make  a  good  High  School  teacher,  do  you?" 

"I  know  somebody  that  would  make  an  excellent 
teacher,  oh,  I  believe  the  very  best  man  that  you 
could  find  anywhere  for  this  place,  and  he,  if  you 
please,  would  not  stand  by  and  laugh — he'd  make 
things  move  if  he  got  in  here," 


A    BUNCH    OF   LITTLE    THIEVES  63 

"Who  is  it,  and  why  so  many  'ifs'?" 

"He's  the  kind  of  a  fellow  that  never  cared 
whether  it  was  an  instructor,  a  student,  or  a  pro- 
fessor that  was  wrong — when  he  thought  him  wrong 
he  got  up  and  told  him  so." 

"But  who,  who  is  he,  and  where  found?" 

"He  has  a  good  position,  and  is  earning  probably 
three  times  as  much  as  he  could  earn  here." 

"Who  is  he?" 

"He  is  a  college  friend  of  mine,  who  is  teaching 
in  one  of  the  city  high  schools.  His  name  is 
Edward  Liton." 

"Do  you  think  it  would  be  impossible  to  get  him 
to  come  out  here?" 

"I  hardly  think  it  probable,  since  it  would  mean 
such  a  loss  in  money;  but  you  can't  tell  at  all  with 
him.  He  is  the  kind  of  a  fellow  that,  if  he  were 
interested  in  the  work,  would  not  consider  the 
money  end  of  it." 

"Suppose  you  write  to  him  at  once  and  ask  him 
to  come  to  visit  the  school.  Say  that  it's  very  im- 
portant that  he  come  out  this  Sunday." 

They  came  upon  a  richly  laden  apple  tree,  and 
Mr.  Rolan,  with  the  help  of  stones  and  half  bad 
apples,  brought  down  a  dozen  good  ones. 

A  sound  of  laughter  startled  them.  Turning 
about,  they  saw  Nida  Cane,  one  of  the  teachers,  in 
back  of  them,  chewing  away  at  an  apple  and  ap- 
parently enjoying  the  situation. 

"Where  did  you  come  from?" 

"I  have  been  back  of  you  since  you  started." 

"Why  didn't  you  speak  up?" 

"I  didn't  want  to  intrude;  but  never  mind,  I  en- 
joyed myself.     Shall  we  go  back?" 


64  A    BUNCH    OF   LITTLE   THIEVES 

"Do  you  care  to?"  asked  Miss  Britter. 

"I  don't,"  replied  Nida,  "I'd  much  rather  feed  on 
apples  than  on  bad  meat." 

"So  would  I,"  said  Rolan.  "To-night  we  can  go 
to  Hilldale  and  have  a  good  big  dinner." 

"I  wish  you  had  spoken  up,  Nida,"  said  Miss 
Britter  impatiently,  "now  we  have  to  tell  everything 
all  over  again." 

"What's  happened?" 

"Oh,  just  listen.  Mr.  Rolan  is  going  to  get  a 
splendid  fellow,  a  real  High  School  teacher,  to  come 
out  here  and  teach  the  High  School  class  for  us." 

"What  are  you  going  to  do  with  Kurt?"  asked 
Nida. 

"I  have  asked  Krammer  to  discharge  him,  and 
he  promised  to  do  so  today." 

"Poor  Mr.  Kurt." 

"I  felt  that  way  myself — it  just  upset  me;  but 
after  all,  it  isn't  a  question  of  accommodating  Mr. 
Kurt  with  a  position.  The  boys  are  at  stake,  and  no 
one  else  must  be  considered.  He  knows  that  he  is 
absolutely  unfit  for  the  classroom;  he  ought  to  get 
out  of  his  own  accord,  but  he  isn't  man  enough  to 
do  that." 

"That's  true." 

"Liton  is  a  very  capable  fellow,"  began  Mr. 
Rolan.  You  just  watch,  if  he  comes  here.  The 
moment  that  fellow  arrives  he  will  have  a  dozen 
different  propositions  for  the  improvement  of  every- 
thing he  will  see.  And  they  will  be  propositions 
you  will  be  glad  to  consider.  He  won't  throw  them 
on  you,  you  know,  but  you  will  see  at  once  that  he 
is  interested  and  that  what  he  proposes  will  really 
be  very  helpful." 


A   BUNCH    OF   LITTLE    THIEVES  65 

"Great!  That's  just  the  kind  of  a  fellow  we  need 
here.  The  place  is  splendidly  equipped  but  there 
is  no  spirit — nothing  to  really  interest  the  boys." 

"I  guess  we'd  better  make  for  home." 

"What  will  they  do  with  the  three  pieces  of  nine- 
cent  meat?"  asked  Nida. 

"Give  it  to  the  boys." 

"Not  at  all,"  said  Rolan,  "they'll  come  back  to  us 
tomorrow." 

"That's  right,"  Miss  Cane  assured  them.  "I 
have  handled  the  expense  accounts  long  enough  to 
know  that  nine-cent  meat  is  given  to  the  staff,  while 
the  boys  grow  fat  on  six-cent  meat." 

"What  kind  of  meat  does  Krammer  get?" 

"Twenty  cents  a  pound,  if  you  please,  for  their 
meat,  and  there  are  orders  that  the  two  different 
kinds,  that  is  Krammer's  and  the  other  two  are  not 
to  touch  each  other.  I  wasn't  his  confidential 
stenographer  for  two  years  for  nothing.  That's 
why  he  asked  me  to  become  a  teacher,  he  hoped  that 
in  a  few  years  I'd  forget  some  of  the  things  he 
wishes  I  didn't  know." 


CHAPTER  VI 

HIS  FIRST  LESSON  IN  REFORMATION 

The  change  of  diet,  the  subtraction  of  self 
activity  and  excitement  from  Michael's  life  on  the 
street,  enervated  him  so  that,  with  the  possible  ex- 
ception of  cool  clear  mornings,  he  was  always 
tired.  The  boys  fell  in  on  cottage  lines  after  leaving 
their  class  rooms,  one  day,  and  were  taken  charge 
of  by  the  cottage  cadets  and  cottage  fathers,  who 
marched  them  back  to  their  cottages  to  wash  up  and 
prepare  for  their  noon  hour  meal. 

"Get  in  there  and  wash,"  yelled  Mr.  Bloate  to  two 
of  them  who  loitered  a  moment  to  fmish  a  short 
conversation  which  they  had  begun  as  new  friends. 
One  of  them  was  Michael.  The  other  fellow  knew 
Mr.  Bloate  quite  well,  and  immediately  ran  into  the 
other  room  to  do  as  he  was  told.  Michael  did  not 
know  him  at  that  time,  and  having  always  resented 
humiliating  orders,  though  not  intending  to  show 
open  rebellion,  was  not  so  quick  as  Father  Bloate 
had  expected  him  to  be. 

This  delay,  whatever  the  cause  of  it  might  have 
been,  was  insulting  to  Mr.  Bloate's  authority.  To 
tolerate  that  might  weaken  his  ability  to  discipline! 
He  dashed  towards  Michael  and  with  full  force 
struck  him  upon  the  mouth. 

Michael  raved.  The  pain  was  great  enough,  but 
how  unfair  the  whole  thing  was.  His  anger  reached 
the  uncontrollable  point;  with  tears  rushing  down 
his  cheeks,  blood  on  his  lips,  he  turned  about  upon 
his  assailant  and  cried  out  as  loud  as  he  could,  so 


A   BUNCH    OF   LITTLE    THIEVES  67 

that  every  boy  stopped  in  the  process  of  washing 
himself  and  with  mingled  wonder  and  admiration 
gazed  at  him,  "What  did  /  do?" 

If  Father  Bloate  had  not  been  afraid  of  this 
demon  boy,  he  would  have  jumped  upon  him  and 
beaten  him  unmercifully,  but  he  really  was  afraid 
and  thought  of  a  better  way.  "Is  that  so,  Mr. 
Roate,"  he  began  slowly  and  emphatically,  shaking 
his  head,  "is  that  the  kind  of  a  fellow  you  are? 
We'll  break  that  in  you,  you  just  wait." 

Michael's  anger  subsided  and  he  was  almost 
overcome  with  dread.  Shivering  like  a  leaf,  he 
washed  himself,  and  fell  into  line  with  the  rest  of 
the  boys,  who  were  waiting  for  the  cottage  ahead 
of  them  to  start  for  the  dining  room. 

Things  quieted  down  a  little.  Mr.  Bloate  was 
busy.  Michael  sighed  with  relief  to  see  him  oc- 
cupied. "It's  all  over  now,"  he  hoped,  "I'll  take  care 
next  time." 

But  his  friend  knew  more  about  Mr.  Bloate  and 
was  not  so  optimistic — he  worried.  "Why  don't 
you  keep  still?"  he  whispered  to  him,  bending 
slightly  out  of  position  to  do  so. 

Mr.  Bloate,  who  happened  to  see  him,  looked  at 
William,  and  William  hurried  noiselessly  behind 
that  friend  and  kicked  him  as  he  would  have  called 
it,  "good  and  hard." 

The  boy's  face  turned  red,  but  he  never  moved. 
Mr.  Bloate  was  satisfied  that  he  was  a  riglit-minded 
boy;  he  took  his  punishment  like  a  man.  But  that 
other  fellow! 

In  this  state  of  mind,  when  the  order  was  given, 
they  went  to  the  dining-room,  to  eat  what  they  could 
get  there. 


68  A   BUNCH    OF   LITTLE    THIEVES 

The  Colonel  was  there  as  ever,  on  the  cement 
steps.  Mr.  Bloate  left  his  boys  in  charge  of  William 
when  they  reached  the  dining-room,  and  walked 
up  to  the  Colonel,  who  bent  his  severe  head  a  trifle 
that  the  cottage  father  might  tell  his  story.  Michael 
did  not  notice  this,  but  his  friend  did.  Taking  the 
advantage  of  the  noise  of  many  feet,  he  whispered 
once  more,  "Don't  talk  back." 

Mr.  Reilly  said  "h'm"  when  the  cottage  father 
was  through,  and  turned  his  fiery  orbs  on  Cottage 
One  and  the  innocent  looking  Michael. 

The  boys  saluted  the  Colonel  and  were  passing 
in.  Just  as  Michael  reached  the  step  upon  which  the 
Colonel  stood,  the  latter  sent  out  his  heavy,  white 
gloved  hand,  grabbed  him  by  the  shoulder,  yanked 
him  out  of  the  line,  and  stood  him  up  against  the 
wall. 

When  all  the  boys  had  entered  and  taken  their 
places  at  the  tables,  the  Colonel  again  grabbed 
Michael  by  the  shoulder,  dragged  him  into  the  center 
of  the  dining-room,  where  all  the  boys  could  see  him, 
and  commanded,  "Sit  down!" 

That  was  terrible.  To  sit  on  the  floor,  before  all 
the  boys,  and  teachers  and  cottage  parents!  In  the 
hope  that  he  might  save  himself  the  humiliation, 
Michael  pleaded,  "Why?" 

"Never  mind  why.     Sit,  I  said." 

"I  won't  never  do  it  again,"  Michael  continued, 
the  tears  rolling  down  his  cheeks. 

The  Colonel  picked  him  up  by  both  shoulders, 
swung  out  his  legs,  bent  them  under  him,  and 
forced  him  to  sit  down. 

Michael  lost  his  reason.    The  situation  was  un- 


A    BUNCH    OF    LITTLE    TIIIEX'ES  60 

fndurabit',  and  his  suffering  broke  out  in  the  form 
of  a  yell,  "Leave  me  alone!" 

Age  and  rank  had  not  made  it  impossible  for  the 
Colonel  to  lose  control  of  himself.  Never  had  a  boy 
dared  to  breathe  against  his  will.  This  fellow  was 
surely  a  demon;  controlled  by  the  same  insanity  that 
forced  Michael's  unfortunate  yell,  he  grabbed  the 
youngster,  and  took  him  out  into  the  vestibule  where 
a  hard  wood  flag-pole  stood  against  the  corner. 
With  that  stick  the  Colonel  beat  the  rebellious  and 
shrieking  Michael  till  the  blood  oozed  out  of  his 
stockings,  covered  his  face,  and  stained  the  floor. 
There  was  no  telling  how  this  would  have  ended  had 
not  the  Colonel's  wife  interfered.  Michael's  shrieks 
brought  terror  into  the  dining-room,  where  some 
murmured  and  some  cried ;  among  these  being  some 
of  the  teachers  and  cottage  mothers,  while  no  one 
ate  much  that  day. 

The  Colonel's  wife  rushed  to  the  boy's  defense. 
She  threw  her  arms  about  the  madman  and 
struggled  with  all  her  strength  to  keep  the  stick 
])ack.  "Til  kill  the  bloody  devil,"  he  cried,  and  the 
shrieking  of  the  culprit  died  down  into  groans. 
Michael  was  taken  to  the  hospital,  unconscious.* 

That  evening  when  Michael,  attracted  by  the 
sound  of  the  drum  sending  the  boys  away  from  their 
supper  table,  dragged  his  swollen  legs  to  the  little 
window  of  his  "coop"  and  peeped  out,  he  could  see 
Che  burning  sun  lower  itself  behind  the  hill  and  tlie 
monastery.  If  only  he  could  escape,  fly  away  (o 
the  hill,  and  live  in  the  lonely  woods  like  an  animal! 


♦Affidavits  can  be  produced  showing  that  far  from  being 
an  exaggeration  this  is  a  mild  description  of  an  incident  that 
has  actually  taken  place.     See  newspaper  articles  in  appendix. 


70  A    BUNCH    OF   LITTLE    THIEVES 

He  cursed  and  swore,  thought  of  his  bare,  dark  cell 
and  the  nights  he  would  have  to  spend  there  alone, 
and  fell  to  crying. 

The  pain  increased  with  his  moving  about.  The 
bandages  were  too  tight  for  swelling  feet.  His  first 
lesson  in  reformation  had  gone  far.  When  he 
crawled  back  to  the  hard  board  on  which  he  was  to 
sleep,  and  sank  into  a  heap  upon  it,  he  growled  like 
a  wounded  cub. 

Footsteps  approached.  A  key  was  thrust  into 
the  keyhole.  Who  was  coming  now?  What  fur- 
ther torture?  He  feigned  sleep,  digging  his  wet 
face  into  his  two  arms. 

The  intruder  had  come  with  food.  Michael 
could  smell  the  coffee.  He  felt  a  gentle  touch  on  his 
arm.  He  shut  his  eyes  tighter.  He  was  touched 
again,  but  he  only  growled  as  if  in  painful  sleep. 
The  man  had  a  heart.  He  set  the  coffee  and  bread 
down  upon  a  board  made  for  the  purpose,  and 
quietly  left,  turning  the  key  again. 

Taps  wailed  through  the  moonlit  valley  that 
evening.  Deep  into  the  night,  while  cottage  father 
Bloate  slept  soundly,  the  boys  in  the  dormitories  of 
Cottage  One  could  hear  a  faint  melancholy  groaning 
from  the  cell  above  them,  and  long  after  the  lights 
of  the  institution  had  been  turned  ofT,  a  weak  candle 
light  could  have  been  seen  in  the  teacher's  room  of 
the  adjacent  cottage,  sending  meek  radiance  through 
a  long  drawn  window  blind,  upon  which  nervous 
shadows  played  to  and  fro  and  disappeared. 


CHAPTER  VII 

VISITORS 

It  was  two  o'clock  the  following  Sunday  after- 
noon when  the  Visitor's  Train,  as  it  was  called,  drew 
in  and  stopped  at  the  little  country  station  of  Abolt. 
Miss  Britter,  Miss  Cane,  and  Mr.  Rolan  waited  anx- 
iously for  the  sight  of  Mr.  Liton  among  the  throng 
that  lowered  itself  down  the  car  steps  upon  the  un- 
frequented platform.  Mothers  and  fathers,  brothers 
and  sisters,  and  sometimes  friends  of  bad  boys,  of 
every  possible  shape  and  size,  carrying  equally  var- 
iant packages,  that  maternal,  paternal,  or  filial  love 
had  packed  full  and  high,  poured  through  the  doors 
of  the  station  and  began  hurriedly  to  ascend  the 
hill. 

"There   he   is!" 

A  tall  young  man,  light-complexioned  face,  well- 
defined  features,  wearing  a  light  gray  suit  and  car- 
rying a  tan-colored  raincoat  folded  over  his  left  arm, 
approached  Mr.  Rolan  with  his  right  hand  extended. 

They  exchanged  very  warm  greetings  and  Mr. 
Liton  was  introduced  to  the  two  young  ladies,  whose 
enthusiastic  welcome  greatly  pleased  him. 

They  started  at  once  for  the  reformatory  carry- 
ing on  a  lively  fire  of  questions  and  answers  as  they 
went.  They  reached  a  point  from  where  they  could 
see  the  road  fall  away  into  the  valley  and  climb  up 
the  other  hill.  The  entire  length  of  it  was  dotted 
with  hurrying  relatives  struggling  up  with  their 
queer  and  numerous  packages. 


72  A    BUNCH    OF    LITTLE    THIEVES 

Mr.  Liton  stopped  frequently,  to  look  about  and 
to  comment  upon  the  scenery  or  express  his  desire 
to  live  in  such  a  place.  "It's  great,"  he  would  say. 
"So  many  things  could  be  done  here." 

"I  should  think  it  would  be  easy  to  influence  boys 
in  a  place  like  this,"  he  said  at  one  time. 

"In  what  way,  for  instance?" 

"Well,  I  don't  mean  by  giving  sentimental  talks 
on  the  beauty  of  nature,  nor  even  botanical  opera- 
tions on  leaves  and  plants.  I  mean  by  taking  walks, 
taking  pictures — athletics,  camping,  and  so  forth." 

Miss  Britter  laughed.  "Yes,  that  would  be  great, 
but — we  need  the  people  who  think  as  you  do.  Most 
of  our  friends  here,  do  not  think  it  necessary  to  in- 
fluence the  boys  in  that  way.  These  boys  are  to  do 
the  world's  dirty  work." 

Mr.  Liton  looked  at  her  a  moment,  then  appre- 
ciating her  sarcasm,  said  dryly,  "Those  people  are 
out  of  the  question ;  they  have  no  business  to  be 
here." 

"Suppose  you  can't  get  others,  for  one,"  said  Miss 
Cane,  "and  suppose  those  who  are  here  interfere, 
for  two." 

They  arrived  upon  the  grounds  and  Mr.  Liton 
was  taken  through  some  of  the  class  rooms,  cot- 
tages, ofTices,  auditorium,  and  finally  to  the  library, 
where  they  sat  down  to  talk  matters  over.  By  this 
time,  Mr.  Liton  was  bubbling  over  with  queries  and 
ideas,  and  it  kept  all  three  busy  answering  them. 
The  library  was  a  very  large  room  surrounded  by 
book  shelves  and  ornamented  in  the  center  by  a  huge 
pool  table.  One  large  gilt  framed  picture  hung 
most  inartistically  upon  the  wall. 


A   BUNCH    OF    LITTLE    THIEVES  73 

"I'd  like  to  give  you  a  lift,  Rolan,"  said  Mr.  Liton, 
"and  shift  this  thing,"  pointing  to  the  pool  table, 
"out  into  the  back  yard  and  substitute  for  it  a  lot  of 
chairs  and  library  tables.  This  would  make  an  ex- 
cellent study  room.    Have  you  study  periods?" 

"No,  we  have  not  been  able  to  have  study  per- 
iods. You  see  most  of  the  boys  have  to  work  half  a 
day,  and  have  only  two  and  a  half  hours  of  school 
each  day." 

"That's  not  right." 

"There  are  many  things  in  this  world  that  are 
not  right." 

"Come  to  my  cottage  and  see  my  room,"  said 
Rolan. 

A  few  minutes  walk  brought  them  to  Cottage 
Four  and  Mr.  Rolan  led  the  way  up  the  stairway. 

"I  thought  all  the  teachers'  rooms  were  on  the 
ground  floor?" 

"Oh,  no,  you  are  given  a  large  room  below,  when 
you  arrive,  and  after  you're  here  long  enough  to 
show  what  kind  of  an  individual  you  are,  unless 
you  are  strong  enough  to  demand  what  belongs 
to  you,  you  are  suddenly  ordered  to  move  into  the 
small  rooms  above,"  said  Nida.  "I  know  the  whole 
process.    Is  there  anything  else  you  wish  to  know?" 

Mr.  Liton  smiled,  "I  am  interested  to  know  just 
how  long  I  should  remain  in  the  large  room  if  I 
came  to  work  here." 

"Come  and  try  it,"  put  in  Miss  Britter  quickly. 

"Perhaps  I  will." 

Mr.  Rolan's  room  was  a  little  bit  of  a  tiling.  Be- 
sides the  bed,  it  had  room  for  no  more  than  a  small 
desk,  a  wardrobe,  and  one  chair.  They  didn't  stay 
long.    On  their  way  down  Mr.  Liton  expressed  his 


74  A   BUNCH    OF   LITTLE   THIEVES 

desire  to  go  into  the  little  sitting  room  of  this  cot- 
tage, 

"They  are  alike  in  all  the  cottages,"  said  Mr. 
Rolan,  "but  come  in  to  see  it.  they  are  kept  different- 
ly." 

"Do  you  use  these  fireplaces  in  the  winter?" 
asked  Mr.  Liton  after  they  entered. 

"We  are  supposed  to,"  said  Miss  Britter,  "but  I 
have  never  seen  any  of  them  in  use." 

"What  an  influence  it  would  be  to  have  the  boys 
sit  about  here  on  winter  nights — read  or  tell  stories 
to  them — roast  chestnuts." 

They  left  the  cottage  and  started  for  the  grove 
back  of  the  school  building,  where  visitors  sat  in 
groups  surrounding  this  or  that  boy  they  had  come 
to  visit.  From  some  groups  came  sounds  of  glad- 
ness— a  brother  telling  tales  of  the  outside  world,  or 
a  liberal  father  promising  great  rewards  for  good 
conduct;  while  over  others  the  sky  was  dark.  A 
widowed  mother  in  need  of  her  son — reports  for  mis- 
conduct— further  detention.  Many  faces  were  sad- 
dened by  an  inexpressible  something.  One  father 
merely  sat  near  his  son  and  looked  away,  while  the 
son  buried  his  head  in  his  hands.  The  time  of  de- 
parture was  drawing  near.  A  stout  mother,  who 
had  to  start  earlier  to  get  to  the  station  in  time,  put 
her  arms  about  her  boy  and  wept,  and  he  wept  with 
her. 

Mr.  Liton  was  grieved  at  the  sight.  He  stood 
where  he  could  look  over  the  entire  grove,  and  had 
he  been  given  to  weeping  as  an  expression  of  grief, 
he,  too,  would  have  wept.  Mr.  Rolan  stood  near  him, 
accustomed  to  the  sight,  while  Miss  Britter  and  Miss 
Cane  were  busy  in  the  crowd  talking  to  parents  and 


A   BUNCH    OP   LITTLE   THIEVES  75 

relatives,  telling  them  how  good  this  or  tliat  hoy  had 
heen  since  they  had  made  their  last  visit,  buying  un- 
consciously the  eternal  gratitude  of  the  bad  boys 
who  stood  by  and  smiled. 

Seeing  the  two  young  men  alone,  Miss  Brand  ap- 
proached them. 

"Miss  Brand,  meet  Mr.  Liton,"  said  Rolan  unen- 
thusiastically. 

"I  am  very  glad  to  meet  you,"  said  Miss  Brand 
smiling  profusely  and  moving  all  kinds  of  muscles 
most  gracefully.     "Are  you  to  become  one  of  us?" 

Mr.  Liton  looked  at  her  and  the  leave-taking  host. 
There  was  a  gayety  in  her  remarks  that  grated  upon 
his  feelings  at  the  moment.  Many  mothers  were 
weeping  then,  and  some  of  the  boys  with  them.  One 
mother,  feeling  it  very  hard  to  part  with  her  little 
fellow,  put  her  arms  about  him  and  kept  them  there, 
weeping  all  the  time  until  she  was  forced  to  leave. 

Mr.  Liton  watched  the  boys  and  their  parents. 
Miss  Brand  went  on  talking.  "This  is  a  lovely  place, 
isn't  it?" 

"Yes,  it's  very  nice." 

One  of  the  big  boys  strolled  past  them. 

"Hello,  Henny,"  said  Miss  Brand,  "How  are  you 
this  visiting  day?" 

"Fine  and  dandy,"  said  tough-looking  Henny, 
with  a  wink  and  a  smile. 

"You're  a  great  fellow,  you  are,"  she  went  on. 

"Yeh?    I  know  it." 

"Wait  till  I  tell  you  why,"  Miss  Brand  went  off 
to  one  side  with  him.* 


•A  report  in  the  New  York  Call  of  Dec.  31,  1911,  indicates 
conditions  much  worse  than  here  hinted  at. 


76  A   BUNCH    OF    LITTLE    THIEVES 

"Who  is  this  woman?'  asked  Liton,  when  she 
was  gone. 

"One  of  our  teachers,  if  you  please." 

"She  doesn't  please  me  much." 

The  bell  rang.  All  visitors  must  go.  There  was 
more  crying,  hurried  kissing,  and  painful  leave-tak- 
ing. A  moment  it  seemed,  and  the  chairs  had  been 
taken  up,  the  boys  marched  to  the  cottages,  and  the 
grove  was  deserted. 

"Let's  go  for  a  walk  and  show  Mr.  Liton  our 
farm,"  suggested  Nida. 

"What  do  you  think  about  the  place?"  asked  Miss 
Britter  when  on  their  way  past  the  farm  house  and 
down  the  road  to  their  left. 

"I  am  tempted  to  apply  for  a  position." 

"Good!  We'll  help  you  get  it — you're  needed 
here." 

"Really,  is  there  a  vacancy?" 

"Yes,  and  one  that  no  one  could  fill  so  well  as 
you." 

"What  about  your  other  position?"  asked  Rolan. 

"I  don't  care  for  the  position  and  they  don't  need 
me  so  very  much  either.  I'm  tired  of  the  slavery  of 
it — I  want  to  be  where  I  can  accomplish  something." 

"Small  salary  here,  though." 

"What  is  it?" 

"Forty-five  a  month." 

"Is  that  all?" 

"Well,  you  get  your  board  and  room." 

Mr.  Liton  thought  a  while.  "That's  quite  a  jump 
down  for  me,  but  never  mind,  I'll  manage." 

"Good,  good!    You  are  really  in  earnest?" 

"I  certainly  am." 


A    BUiNGH    OF   LITTLE    THIEVES  77 

"Well,  you  leave  it  to  me,  then,"  said  ^liss  Brit- 
ter.    "I  will  see  that  you  get  your  appointment." 

They  remained  down  the  valley  a  long  time.  An 
old  deserted  house  stood  there,  with  all  its  window 
panes  shattered,  like  a  human  skull  with  black  holes 
where  bright  eyes  Jiad  been.  In  front  of  this  house 
and  in  harmony  with  it,  lay  the  lifeless  remains  of 
an  old  apple  tree.  Upon  this  they  sat  looking  from 
hill  to  hill,  planning,  discussing,  and  planning  again, 
until  the  afternoon  vi^as  gone;  the  contrast  between 
woods  and  sky  was  accentuated,  and  all  details  lost 
— until  the  universe  was  lit  up  by  stars  and  fireflies, 
and  the  air  vibrated  with  the  songs  of  peepers  and 
their  fellow  singers. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

THE  FAMILY  INCREASES 

Michael  lay  in  his  cell,  night  and  day,  for  two 
weeks.  When  all  his  wounds  were  healed  and  he 
was  strong  again,  after  spending  so  many  hours  of 
misery  with  his  face  pressed  against  the  hard  wood- 
en bars  on  his  window,  watching  the  other  boys  at 
play,  he  was  released.  He  was  taken  into  the  office 
and  privately  examined  as  to  his  physical  and  men- 
tal conditions. 

"Well,  how  do  you  feel  now?"  asked  Mr.  Kram- 
mer, 

Michael  had  been  standing  squarely  on  both 
feet.  This  greeting  was  sudden  and  he  had  no  an- 
swer for  it,  so  he  shifted  his  weight  to  the  right  foot, 
clasped  both  hands  behind  him,  dropped  his  head, 
and  stared  out  of  the  window. 

"It  doesn't  pay  to  be  disobedient." 

Michael  did  not  answer,  but  two  tears  grew  out 
and  spread  shining  films  over  his  eyes. 

"Do  you  think  it  does?" 

"I  wasn't  disobedient." 

"Do  you  want  more  of  what  you  got  last  week?" 
asked  Mr.  Krammer,  keeping  back  his  anger  with 
an  effort. 

"No,  sir,"  was  his  answer,  but  it  was  said  in  a 
way  which  showed  that  he  had  become  hardened 
to  such  experiences  and  didn't  care. 

"Well  then,  don't  talk  like  that.  Do  you  think 
you  can  now  go  out  and  obey  your  superiors,  as  you 
always  should?" 


A   BUNCH    OF    LITTLE    THIEVES  79 

"Yes,  sir,"  mumbled  Michael,  subdued,  and 
though  Mr.  Krammer  realized  that  that  answer 
meant  nothing,  he  felt  himself  conqueror  and  quite 
relieved.  The  awful  stubbornness  had  been  broken, 
if  no  other  result  was  accomplished. 

"Everything  done  here  is  done  for  your  own 
good.  Look  what  a  nice  clean  bed  you  get — of 
course  while  you  do  the  right  thing.  What  a  lovely 
home  you  have — what  beautiful  trees  around  the 
place.  You  must  be  appreciative.  Appreciation  is 
one  of  the  greatest  virtues." 

Michael  continued  looking  out  of  the  window, 
swinging  his  weight  from  one  foot  to  the  other, 
every  now  and  then. 

"Now  we  are  going  to  make  a  good  boy  of  you 
Michael,  a  credit  to  your  parents  and  of  value  to 
your  employers,  or  to  any  one  with  whom  you  may 
be  connected." 

Michael  still  made  no  answer. 

"Yes,  sir,  we  will  make  a  good  boy  of  you  at 
no  matter  what  cost  and  pain,"  went  on  Mr.  Kram- 
mer. "If  you  behave  yourself,  stand  ready  at  all 
times  to  do,  without  any  nonsensical  back  talk,  all 
that  is  asked  of  you  by  your  superiors,  you  will 
have  a  good  chance  here.  You  can  learn  a  trade 
or  farming.  You  can  be  a  house  painter  or  a  plum- 
ber, or  whatever  you  like  to  be  best,  and  become  a 
useful  citizen,  useful  to  your  parents,  your  em- 
ployer, or  your  country.  I  often  get  requests  for 
good  boys  to  fill  good  positions.  If  you  do  what  is 
right  in  the  cottage,  at  your  work,  or  wherever  you 
may  be  put,  I  can  place  you  in  a  good  position.  I 
I)laced  one  boy  on  a  farm  the  oilier  day." 

Michael  became  interested. 


80  A   BUNCH    OF   LITTLE   THIEVES 

"A  little  while  ago  one  of  our  boys  got  a  good 
position  with  one  of  the  big  plumbers  of  the  city. 
Then,  besides  all  that,  I  may  want  to  adopt  a  good 
boy.  There  are  all  kinds  of  good  chances  for  the 
boy  who  obeys,  who  works  with  a  will  and  doesn't 
watch  the  clock — who  always  smiles  and  is  happy 
and  respectful." 

Mr.  Krammer  was  now  satisfied  that  there  were 
no  broken  bones  in  the  boy's  body  and  that  he  was 
not  inclined  to  tell  his  troubles  and  have  the  thing 
leak  out.  "He  won't  run  away.  He  is  a  quiet  secre- 
tive boy,  anyway,"  thought  he,  relieving  himself, 
"he  never  tells  anything — he  bites  his  lips." 

Michael  was  taken  to  the  principal's  office. 

"You  have  lost  a  great  deal  of  your  work,  haven't 
you?"  said  Miss  Britter,  when  Michael  was  left  alone 
with  her. 

Michael's  eyes  watered  again,  and  he  made  no 
reply. 

"I  don't  like  to  send  him  to  Miss  Brand  now," 
thought  Miss  Britter.  "She  won't  put  up  with  his 
condition  and  there'll  be  more  trouble." 

"Would  you  like  to  stay  here,  in  my  office,  and 
have  me  help  you,  so  that  you  can  make  up  the  work 
you  lost?" 

"I  don't  care,"  said  Michael  bitterly. 

"All  right,  then,  we'll  do  that  for  a  while.  I  think 
that  if  you  work  hard  with  me,  I  will  be  able  to 
send  you  to  a  higher  grade." 

Michael  was  overwhelmed  by  the  encouragement 
and  her  genuine  interest,  especially  coming  after  his 
interview  with  the  Superintendent  and  his  own  un- 
friendly reply  to  Miss  Britter's  friendly  offer.    "How 


A   BUNCH    OF   LITTLE   THIEVES  81 

different  she  was  from  all  the  rest,  from  everybody 
in  the  world." 

She  brought  a  chair  from  one  of  the  rooms, 
placed  it  against  the  table,  asked  him  to  sit  down, 
and  gave  him  an  entirely  new  set  of  books,  paper, 
pencil,  pen  and  ink.  These  clean  new  things  were 
to  be  his,  this  his  room,  his  desk,  and  the  principal 
his  teacher. 

"I  wonder  why  she's  so  good  to  me,"  he  thought. 
"I  guess  she's  sorry  for  me." 

"Before  we  go  to  work,  Michael,  will  you  take 
this  note  to  Miss  Cane's  room  for  me?" 

Michael  did  not  know  what  to  make  of  it.  How 
can  a  teacher  bestow  more  kindness  upon  a  pupil 
than  by  sending  him  on  an  errand.  He  was  full 
of  hope,  and  showed  his  eagerness  and  delight  in 
having,  as  he  concluded  in  his  little  mind,  the  best 
lady  he  had  ever  had  for  a  friend. 

"Yes,  ma'm,"  he  said  very  eagerly. 

He  pulled  a  clean  piece  of  paper  out  of  the  waste 
paper  basket  and  folded  it  about  the  note  that  he 
might  not  stain  it,  and  thought  to  himself,  "To- 
morrow I'll  come  in  here  with  my  hands  so  clean, 
I  won't  need  a  piece  of  paper,  if  she  should  send  me 
with  a  note  again." 

Hardly  had  he  run  the  length  of  tbe  hallway 
when  he  felt  himself  colliding  with  a  big  body — he 
was  face  to  face  with  the  Colonel. 

"Where  are  you  going?" 

"Miss  Britter  sent  me  with  this  note." 

"Oh,  no  sir,  you  can't  be  sent  anywhere,  you  go 
right  back  witli  me." 

"Miss  Britter,"  the  Colonel  shouted  when  they 


82  A   BUNCH    OF   LITTLE   THIEVES 

reached  the  door  of  her  office,  "what's  this  boy  doing 
alone  in  the  hallway?    Did  you  send  him?" 

"Yes,  sir,  I  did." 

"He's  not  a  second-stripe  boy." 

"Mr.  Reilly,  I  sent  this  boy  on  an  errand.  Will 
you  please  let  him  go?" 

Mr.  Reilly  released  his  hold  and  stood  looking  at 
her,  trying  to  control  his  temper.  "You  have  no 
right  to  send  that  boy  anywhere." 

"Talking  about  rights,  Mr.  Reilly,  wasn't  it  de- 
cided some  time  ago  that  you  had  no  right  to  in- 
terfere with  my  work?  I  am  in  charge  of  this 
school." 

"You  don't  know  this  boy  as  I  do." 

"I  think  I  know  him  much  better  than  you  do, 
if  you  will  pardon  me." 

"Well,  y'don't  know  him.  That  fellow'll  die  on 
the  gallows,  and  you'll  help  him  get  there." 

"What's  the  use  of  arguing,  Mr.  Reilly,  we  won't 
agree.    Besides  I  don't  believe  in  prophets." 

"Well,  I'm  going  to  see  to  it  just  the  same.  I 
suppose  I  ought  to  send  out  an  alarm  for  him  any- 
way. He'll  never  come  back,  and  if  he  don't  you'll 
pay  that  five-dollar  fine  let  me  tell  you." 

"Giving  a  boy  a  chance  and  making  the  possibil- 
ity of  leading  him  the  right  way  is  worth  the  risk 
of  a  five-dollar  bill  to  me." 

Mr.  Reilly  made  a  dash  for  the  superintendent's 
office. 

Michael  came  back,  took  his  seat  and  worked 
with  an  expression  of  satisfaction  which  he  had 
never  had  before.  "The  big  burly  Colonel  had  to 
give  in,"  Michael  chuckled  to  himself.     She  was 


A    BUNCH    OF   LITTLE    THIEVES  83 

certainly,  beyond  all  doubt  a  friend  of  his  and  a 
powerful  lady. 

Miss  Britter  moved  her  chair  near  to  Michael  and 
began  to  test  his  ability  to  read.  He  held  a  new 
sixth  reader  in  his  hand  and  was  looking  for  an  in- 
teresting lesson,  since  he  was  given  the  privilege  of 
choosing  one.  Mr.  Krammer  appeared  in  the  door- 
way and  frightened  him.  "He  won't  let  her  teach 
me,"  was  the  first  thought  that  came  to  him. 

"May  I  see  you  a  moment?"  said  Mr.  Krammer, 
remaining  outside  of  the  doorway,  with  the  usual 
pale  face  and  flashing  eyes — he  was  angry. 

Miss  Britter  walked  out  into  the  hallway. 

"Now,  INIiss  Britter,"  he  began,  growing  paler, 
"you  know  that  it  is  against  the  rules  of  this  insti- 
tution to  let  a  new  boy,  any  boy  that  hasn't  yet 
received  his  second  stripe,  go  anywhere,  alone." 

"I  know  that  very  well,  and,  never  before,  have 
I  sent  a  new  boy  anywhere.  This,  however,  was  an 
exceptional  case  and  I  felt  that  I  could  gain  so  much 
by  doing  it  that  it  paid  me  to  risk  it — he's  here,  as 
you  see." 

"It  makes  no  difference  what  the  purpose  is.  Miss 
Britter,  these  are  my  rules  and  I'd  like  to  have  you 
observe  them.  He  did  come  back  this  time,  but  he 
might  not  next  time.  You  haven't  had  the  experi- 
ence I  have  liad.  Don't  forget  that  I  have  been  in 
this  business  twenty  years  and  I  know.  Besides,  this 
IV'llow's  got,  as  you  probably  know,  a  very  bad  dis- 
jjosition.  I  wouldn't  trust  him  for  a  minute.  Why 
isn't  he  in  his  class  room?" 

"Because  I  wish  to  help  him  iiiakc  up  some  of 
the  wftrk  he  has  lost  by  being  sliiif  up  in  iiis  coll." 


84  A   BUNCH    OF   LITTLE   THIEVES 

"I  don't  think  that  a  very  good  plan.  He  can 
make  up  his  work  in  his  class  room." 

"Mr.  Krammer,  this  is  as  far  as  I  can  go.  If  you 
wish  my  ofTice — you  may  have  it — you  are  interfer- 
ing with  everything  I  do.  I  am  not  a  machine  and 
my  ambition  does  not  run  in  that  direction.  I  can 
find  a  place  where  I  can  have  a  little  leeway  in  doing 
things,  at  least  to  a  limited  extent." 

"I'm  sure  you  have  a  great  deal  of  leeway  here, 
Miss  Britter.  I  merely  want  to  help  you  out.  You 
are  busy  enough  with  your  duties  as  principal. 
Why  should  you  be  adding  burdens  to  those  you 
have  already?  However,  if  you  enjoy  doing  this  I 
have  no  intention  at  all  of  interfering  with  your 
work,  I  hope  I  haven't  made  you  feel  that.  I  think 
you  have  taken  too  much  hard  work  and  responsi- 
bility upon  yourself." 

Mr.  Krammer  finally  walked  away  and  Miss  Brit- 
ter returned  to  her  private  pupil,  determined  to  show 
that  he  was  not  going  towards  the  gallows. 

"What  have  you  decided  you'd  like  to  read,  Mich- 
ael?" 

Michael  held  the  book  open  and  pointed  to  the 
title  on  the  page  before  him,  "The  Wreck." 

"Good,  I  love  that  myself.  It  is  only  one  chap- 
ter from  a  very  beautiful  book." 

"Yes,  ma'm,  I  know — I  just  read  here,  it  is  from 
David  Gopperfield  by  Charles  Dickens." 

"Did  you  ever  read  David  Gopperfield?" 

"No." 

"Well,  then,  shall  I  tell  you  the  story,  so  that  you 
will  enjoy  this  chapter  more?" 

Michael  answered,  showing  that  he  was  pleased 
with  the  idea,  and  took  a  comfortable  position  for 


A   BUNCH    OF   LITTLE   THIEVES  85 

listening  and  one  in  wliich  he  wouldn't  have  to  look 
into  her  eyes  all  the  time,  for  as  much  as  he  liked 
her  now,  there  was  still  that  feeling  of  doubt  in  him 
towards  everybody  which  is  created  by  the  exper- 
iences of  a  life  like  his. 

"This  is  the  time  to  act,"  thought  Miss  Britter, 
as  she  observed  the  subtle  change  in  the  expression 
on  his  face.  She  summed  up  all  the  power  within 
her.  With  a  vividness  that  is  prompted  by  the  great- 
est appreciation  only,  she  led  the  misused  David 
through  all  his  trials,  pictured  vividly  his  sufTerings 
at  the  hands  of  his  misusers,  the  happy  days  on  the 
seashore  with  Emily,  his  travels,  the  horrible  wine- 
shop, his  escape,  his  aunt,,  the  storm,  the  banging 
of  the  shutters  on  the  window  of  his  bedroom  in 
the  hotel  at  Yarmouth,  Ham  and  the  wreckage,  Em- 
ily's going  to  Australia,  David's  rise  to  greatness,  and 
all  that  she  could  remember,  till  Michael's  eyes  fair- 
ly bulged,  and  he  hoped  in  his  heart  that  he,  too, 
would  be  like  David  Gopperfield. 

Michael  entered  right  into  the  spirit  of  the  story, 
especially  because  Miss  Britter  told  him  that  it  was 
a  true  story,  that  Dickens  himself  is  supposed  to 
have  experienced  the  things  that  he  made  David 
experience  in  the  story — that  it  was  a  real  true  story. 
As  far  as  his  own  experience  allowed  him,  Michael 
actually  saw  everytliing  she  described,  or  he  read, 
and  he  read  with  feeling.  There  was  none  of  the 
singsong  that  he  used  to  read  with,  and  that  most 
children  read  with;  and  when  he  got  through  with 
the  lesson,  he  asked  with  no  little  anxiety,  "Have 
you  that  book?" 

"Yes,  I  think  I  have  it,"  said  Miss  Britter,  "Gome 
up  into  the  library  and  I  will  let  you  look  for  it. 


86  A   BUNCH    OF   LITTLE   THIEVES 

There  is  a  very  nice  Morris  chair  up  there  and  when 
you  find  David  Gopperfield,  you  can  sit  down  in  it 
and  read  till  I  come  for  you." 

She  left  him  in  the  library  and,  much  to  her  re- 
gret, felt  obliged  to  turn  the  key  on  him.  She  then 
returned  to  her  office,  where  to  her  consternation  she 
found  a  crowd  of  youngsters  waiting  for  her.  Miss 
Greet  had  sent  down  three  impudent  boys,  and  they 
were  all  three  giggling  fearlessly.  Miss  Tick  sent 
in  one  fellow  who  refused  to  work.  Mr.  Rolan  sent 
in  two  who  were  caught  fighting,  and  Miss  Brand 
sent  in  two  for  impudence  and  disrespectful  bnck 
talk.    All  had  to  be  attended  to. 

"If  they  wouldn't  send  down  so  many  of  them,'' 
thought  Miss  Britter,  "I  could  do  something  with 
them." 

She  took  the  smallest  fellow  first. 

"What's  the  matter  with  you?" 

"I  didn't  do  my  work,"  said  Peter,  his  head  low- 
ered and  his  fingers  twitching  nervously. 

"Why  didn't  you  do  your  work?" 

"  'Cause  she  won't  promote  me.  I  did  better'n 
Ring;  an'  he  ivas  promoted." 

"Now,  then,  because  you  won't  do  your  work  we 
won't  promote  you,  and  if  you  don't  do  your  work 
from  now  on,  we  simply  won't  let  you  eat  until  you 
do.  Go  back  to  your  class  room  and  tell  your  teach- 
er that  you  are  going  to  do  your  work  now,  and  then 
when  I  am  through  with  the  rest  of  the  boys  here, 
I  will  come  to  see  what  you  have  done." 

"You  two  boys  who  were  caught  fighting  I  will 
send  back  to  your  class  rooms  now,  and  this  after- 
noon or  to-morrow  morning  I  will  call  you  in  here 
and  tell  you  what  I  think  about  it.    I  am  going  to 


A   BUNCH    OF   LITTLE   THIEVES  87 

let  you  think  it  over  by  yourselves  until  then,  so 
that  you  will  feel  that  I  am  fair  in  what  I  am  going 
to  do  with  you,  and  be  able  to  tell  me  why  I  shouldn't 
do  what  I  want  to.  Something  must  be  done  with 
boys  who  fight.  If  you  can't  settle  things  quietly  by 
yourselves,  then  we  have  to  step  in  and  help  you 
settle  them.  Go  on  now  back  to  your  class  rooms 
and  by  to-morrow,  if  not  sooner,  I  will  see  you  both." 
"Now  you  three  come  over  here.  Impudence!" 
she  looked  at  them  a  while.  They  stopped  laugh- 
ing. 

"We  were  only  laughing,"  said  one  of  them,  and 
thereupon  all  three  lost  control  of  themselves  and 
giggled  again. 

"If  you  acted  as  you  do  now  I  don't  blame  Miss 
Greet  for  getting  rid  of  you;  but  tell  me  what  the 
trouble  was." 

"Marlberg  had  his  pockets  stuffed  with  sand- 
wiches— he  got  up  to  go  to  the  board — teacher  called 
on  him — they  fell  on  the  floor."  And  once  more 
the  three  of  them  were  forced  to  muster  all  self  con- 
trol to  keep  back  their  renewed  desire  to  laugh. 

Poor  Miss  Britter!  She  was  on  the  verge  of 
laughing  heartily  herself.  What  was  she  to  do? 
"Think  of  a  teacher  sending  boys  out  for  such  a 
thing,  causing  a  great  deal  of  trouble,  and  placing 
herself  and  principal  in  a  peculiar  position  instead 
of  merely  laughing  at  it  herself  for  a  few  moments 
and  going  on  with  her  work,"  she  thought  to  her- 
self, and  tried  to  look  serious. 
"Where's   Marlberg?" 

"He's  in  the  class  room.    We  tried  to  tell  her, 
she  called  us  impudent." 


88  A   BUNCH    OF   LITTLE   THIEVES 

"Well,  you  annoyed  her.  If  you  thought  it  was 
funny  you  should  have  laughed  quietly  to  your- 
selves and  not,  as  you  must  have,  disturbed  the  rest 
of  the  class  and  the  work.  Now  go  back  and  behave 
yourselves.  I  don't  want  to  give  you  any  reports 
for  this  because  I  don't  think  you  meant  anything 
wrong,  but  take  care  now,  or  I  shall  have  to." 

Miss  Britter  was  left  with  the  two  who  had  been 
impudent  to  Miss  Brand  and  had  given  her  disre- 
spectful back  talk.  Having  been  witness  to  the  man- 
ner in  which  she  had  attended  to  those  who  came 
before  them,  as  was  unavoidable,  since  her  entire 
offices  consisted  of  one  small  room,  they  were  now 
quite  hopeful  or  careless  as  to  their  own  fates.  A 
third  boy  was  with  them,  and  he  carried  a  note.  Miss 
Britter  began  to  read  it,  and  as  she  did  so  her  face 
assumed  a  very  severe  expression.  She  looked  at 
the  bigger  one. 

"She  nags  me  so,"  he  said  with  contempt,  "I 
had  to  say  it  to  her.  I  don't  want  to  be  in  her  class 
and  I'll  never  be  good  while  I'm  there — she  just 
won't  let  me,  she  hates  me." 

The  other  fellow  kept  changing  his  position  and 
swinging  his  head  from  side  to  side. 

"I'll  tell  you.  Jack,"  she  began,  leaning  down- 
ward a  little  and  half  shutting  one  eye,  "if  I  didn't 
know  you  for  an  exceptionally  nice  boy,  I  should  be 
very  angry  at  you  for  talking  like  that  either  to 
Miss  Brand  or  to  me," 

"I  can't  help  it,  it's  true,"  said  Jack,  almost  cry- 
ing. 

"You  may  think  it's  true,  but  whether  it  is  true 
or  not  Miss  Brand  is  your  teacher,  and  her  work 
consists  of  trying  to  help  you  be  better  men  by  teach- 


A   BUNCH   OP   LITTLE   THIEVES  89 

ing  you;  and  you  should  under  no  circumstances 
have  talked  to  her  in  that  way.  You  know  what  the 
rules  of  this  institution  are.  For  your  ofTence,  I 
must  give  you  fifteen  marks  each.  That  means  that 
you  must  spend  three  weeks  more  here.  Now,  I 
would  advise  you,  as  a  very  good  friend  of  yours, 
to  take  your  punishments  like  men  and  go  back  to 
your  class  rooms  and  forget  all  about  it.  Only  don't 
get  into  that  mess  again.  Everybody  has  the  right 
to  think  as  he  pleases,  but  no  one  has  the  right  to 
talk  as  you  boys  did." 

Both  boys  cried.  No  punishment  could  equal  in 
severity  the  punishment  of  reports,  for  every  re- 
port lengthened  the  slavery  they  despised. 

She  gave  the  third  boy  a  note  to  take  back  to  Miss 
Brand,  and  sent  all  back  to  their  class  room;  then 
went  up  stairs  to  get  Michael  down  before  the  bugle 
should  blow. 

Michael  sat  squeezed  into  the  Morris  chair,  his 
feet  under  him,  reading. 

"How  do  you  like  David  Gopperfield?" 

Michael  shook  his  flushed  face.  "It's  the  nicest 
story  I  ever  read.  The  first  part  was  a  little  hard  for 
me.  But  now!"  he  shook  his  head  again,  and  went 
on,  "I  want  to  hurry  up  and  get  to  the  part  where 
David  Goperfield  plays  with  Emily  by  the  sea.  I 
found  some  other  books,  while  looking  for  this  one, 
tijat  I  want  to  read  when  I  am  through  with  this." 

She  promised  to  let  him  read  every  day,  and  they 
started  for  the  floor  below,  and  Michael  was  about 
to  be  sent  down  with  the  rest  of  the  boys,  when  he 
recognized  the  probation  officer  coming  in  with  two 
boys  back  of  him,  and  a  strange  and  sudden  im- 
pulse caused  him  to  stop  and  look  more  closely  at 


90  A   BUNCH    OF   LITTLE   THIEVES 

them  fo  make  sure.    Just  as  he  thought — there  were 
Kaiky  and  Skinny. 

Michael  was  hurried  down  into  the  basement, 
where  he  fell  into  his  cottage  line  with  the  aid  of 
a  very  severe  side  glance  on  the  part  of  the  Colonel, 
who,  he  was  certain,  now  had  it  in  for  him.  But 
Colonel  Reilly  affected  him  superficially  only,  at  this 
time — there  were  too  many  exciting  things  to  think 
about.  The  entire  morning  had  been  climaxed  by 
the  sight  of  his  beloved  friends,  more  beloved  now 
than  ever.  The  desire  to  see  them  was  consuming 
— how  would  he  ever  wait  through  those  awful  two 
weeks  of  quarantine?  Colonel  Reilly  never  missed 
a  chance  to  stare  at  him  severely,  and  though  he  was 
not  exactly  afraid,  he  soon  felt  a  peculiar  tug  at  his 
heart,  so  that  his  face  darkened  a  little,  the  expres- 
sion of  inward  joy  disappeared,  and  he  became 
merely  number  thirty-three — one  little  culprit  in  an 
assemblage  of  many, 

"Has  every  class  gone  down?"  asked  Miss  Brit- 
ter  of  a  group  of  teachers,  standing  at  the  end  of  the 
long  hallway. 

Nida  and  Rolan  waved  an  affirmative  reply, 
which  was  not  enough  for  Miss  Brand,  whose 
feigned  respect  for  superiors  caused  her,  as  usual, 
to  go  into  a  dozen  varieties  of  graceful  muscular 
movement,  and  all  lit  up  by  smiles,  answer,  "As  far 
as  I  know.  Miss  Britter." 

Miss  Britter  on  the  other  hand,  incapable  of  feign- 
ing appreciation  for  that  respect  any  longer,  said, 
addressing  herself  to  Nida  and  Rolan,  "Wait  for  me, 
will  you?  I  want  to  see  Mr.  Krammer.  I  will  be 
out  soon.    We  can  go  for  a  walk." 


A   BUNCH    OF   LITTLE    THIEVES  «I 

Mr.  Krammer,  as  usual,  with  all  the  importance 
he  could  attach  to  his  great  amount  of  avoirdupois, 
sat  in  his  armchair  figuring  away  at  amounts  spent, 
amounts  received,  and  amounts  expected  and  hoped 
for.  When  Miss  Britter  came  in,  he  turned  one  of 
his  little  books  over  on  papers  on  his  desk,  sat  back 
in  his  seat,  clasped  his  hands  and  prepared  to  hs- 
ten. 

"Mr.  Krammer,"  she  began,  "I  must  have  anoth- 
er High  School  teacher." 

"I  had  one  for  you,  but  you  weren't  satisfied." 

"Were  you  satisfied  with  him?" 

"No,  no,  you  didn't  understand  me.  I  didn't  want 
him  since  he  was  as  bad  as  you  said  he  was,  but 
I  thought  he  might  have  stayed  till  we  got  another 
teacher  to  take  his  place." 

"But,  Mr.  Krammer,  I  explained  to  you  that  from 
a  psychological  point  of  view,"  said  Miss  Britter, 
calmly,  knowing  that  the  word  psychology,  when- 
ever she  could  possibly  make  use  of  it,  due  to  its 
mystery  in  his  mind,  always  defeated  his  arguments, 
"that  it  was  much  better  to  have  the  boys  go  on 
without  a  teacher  than  to  leave  them  in  the  care  of 
a  man  like  Mr.  Kurt.  The  class  is  already  demoral- 
ized. They  are  impatient — have  no  respect  for  any 
one.  I  don't  blame  them,  mind  you.  No  one  should 
have  very  much  respect  for  such  a  man — he  looks 
a  degenerate.  I  say  it  would  be  better  to  send  them 
out  to  work  on  the  farm  than  keep  them  in  school 
under  these  conditions." 

"Oh,  no,  we  can't  send  them  out  of  school.  We 
get  seven  cents  a  day  for  every  boy  in  school.  For 
such  reasons  the  State  will  deduct  those  seven  cents 
from  their  usual  amount,  and  we  can't  afford  that; 


92  A   BUNCH    OF   LITTLE    THIEVES 

but  I'll  tell  you  what  can  be  done.  Suppose  you 
take  care  of  them  for  half  an  hour  each  morning 
and  afternoon,  so  that  we  can  mark  them  present, 
then,  as  you  say,  we  can  send  them  out  to  work  on 
the  farm,  without  losing  the  seven  cents  a  day  for 
each  boy." 

"But  here  is  the  point,  Mr.  Krammer,  I  was  just 
choosing  between  two  evils.  You  agree  with  me, 
surely,  that  to  have  a  good  teacher  is  better  than 
either." 

"Yes,  yes,  surely,  but  you  can't  get  good  teach- 
ers very  easily.    Good  teachers  are  scarce." 

"I  have  a  very  good  teacher  for  you, — a  college 
graduate,  employed  in  the  city  High  Schools  now, 
willing  to  give  up' his  good  position  there  and  come 
here  for  less  money,  because  of  his  deep  interest  in 
the  cause." 

"Yes,  I  know  to  whom  you  refer,  at  least  I  think  I 
know.  Mr.  Badgeman  informed  me  of  Mr.  Liton. 
Isn't  that  the  name?" 

"Yes,  Mr.  Liton  is  the  man." 

"Yes,  I  thought  so.  But — aside  from  my  hesitat- 
ing to  employ  a  man  like  Mr.  Liton  for  very  good 
reasons  of  my  own,  Mr.  Badgeman,  chairman  of  the 
appointing  committee,  has  advertised  for  teachers 
and  has  received  many  applications,  and  they  must 
be  attended  to  fairly  and  in  order." 

"But  what  are  your  objections  to  a  man  like 
Mr.  Liton?" 

"Well,  I'll  tell  you,  Miss  Britter.  I  am  a  man 
of  experience,  as  I  hope  you  know.  I  have  been  in 
this  business  for  twenty  years,  probably  more — I 
know  these  men.   They  are  capable,  but  they  come 


A   BUNCH    OF    LITTLE    THIEVES  93 

into  a  place  like  this  and  in  a  week  or  two  they  want 
to  run  it." 

"But  Mr.  Krammer,  the  man  has  much  more  of  a 
chance  for  advancement  where  he  is  than  he  ever 
could  have  here,  if  that  should  be  his  object  in  life. 
He  comes  here  because  he  wants  to  help  the  boys. 
He  can  do  it — he  is  very  capable  and  would  be  a  very 
valuable  help  to  you.  I  know  him  from  conversing 
with  him,  and  Mr.  Rolan  has  known  him  for  years. 
Besides,  he  has  the  letters  of  recommendation  that 
commend  him  in  the  highest  terms." 

"Appointing  is  not  in  my  province,  as  you  know. 
There  is  a  committee  of  appointment,  and  I  have 
to  abide  by  their  doings.  Besides,  as  Mr.  Badgeman 
also  informs  me,  he  wants  more  than  we  can  give 
him." 

"He  told  me  that  he'd  work  for  the  forty-five  you 
give  to  all  men  teachers." 

"Then  he  changed  his  mind,  I  guess.  Or,  he  may 
intend  to  work  a  month  or  so  for  that  sum,  then, 
after  having  settled  himself,  demand  more.  The  man 
nmst  be  foolish  to  leave  a  position  paying  so  much 
more  and  offering  such  advancement,  for  the  one 
he  would  get  here." 

"I  can  not  see  why  the  question  of  salary  should 
arise  at  all,  when  he  told  me  that  he  was  willing  to 
come  for  what  he  could  get.  But  suppose  he  should 
want  five  or  ten  dollars  a  month  more,  I  don't  see 
why  he  shouldn't  get  it  if  he's  worth  it.  Five  or  ten 
dollars  a  month  won't  bankrupt  this  institution  and 
may  make  it  infinitely  better.  It  seems  to  me  that 
our  experience  here  has  proven  that  thirty-five  dollar 
agency  teachers  are  no  economy  from  any  point  of 
view." 


94  A    BUNCH    OF    LITTLE    THIEVES 

"They're  good  enough  for  me.  We  don't  need 
any  better  kind,  Miss  Britter.  That  is  your  trouble — 
you  want  to  do  the  impossible;  you  want  to  make 
poets  out  of  these  boys  when  they  aren't  capable  of 
being  good  carpenters  and  shoemakers  at  present. 
After  all,  they  come  from  a  lower  order  of  society, 
and  if  you  can  make  a  good  faithful  army  of  em- 
ployees out  of  them  to  do  the  world's  dirty  work, 
you  will  really  have  done  human  kind  a  service." 

Miss  Britter's  face  grew  red.  This  was  meeting 
face  to  face  the  personification  of  evil  that  made  the 
realization  of  her  dream  an  impossibility.  How 
can  you  talk  to  such  a  man?  What  hope  is  there  for 
these  unfortunate  boys  in  his  charge?  She  could 
have  cried  right  there  before  him. 

"You  can  expect  a  young  lady  here  to-morrow 
to  take  charge  of  the  High  School  class,"  said  Mr. 
Krammer,  to  break  the  silence.  "I  believe  her  name 
is  Miss  Upstir.  She  is  a  Normal  School  graduate, 
and  I  believe  has  been  head  of  a  department  in  a 
town  school  in  Pennsylvania." 

Miss  Britter  hurriedly  left  his  office  and  made 
for  her  own.  She  found  everything  as  she  had  left 
it.  Nida  and  Mr.  Rolan  were  gone.  She  straight- 
ened a  few  of  the  papers  on  her  desk  and  sat  down 
to  think.  "Why  should  I  stay  here?"  she  kept  asking 
herself  over  and  over.  "Surely  there  is  some  place 
in  the  world  where  I  will  be  allowed  to  accomplish 
something." 

A  rap  on  the  door  startled  her. 

"Gome  in." 

Miss  Tick,  the  first-grade  teacher,  opened  the 
door. 


A   BUNCH    OF    LITTLE    THIEVES  95 

•'Miss  Britter,"  she  began,  full  of  excitement,  "I 
have  come  to  tell  you  that  I  am  going  to  leave.  I  can 
not  go  on  v^ith  the  class  any  longer.  I  am  not  fitted 
to  teach.  Why  did  he  make  me  do  it?  I  came  here 
as  a  stenographer.  He  kept  telling  me  all  along  that 
it's  only  temporarily.  It's  almost  a  year  now,  and 
I  am  not  going  to  stay  any  longer.  It's  unfair  to  the 
poor  kids.  They  are  learning  nothing.  I  wasn't 
born  a  teacher  and  never  studied  for  anything  other 
than  stenographer,  and  that  wasn't  my  fault  either 
— I  wanted  to  study  badly  enough." 

"That's  just  the  way  he's  been  doing  things  since 
I  know  him.  Anything  but  the  right  thing.  It 
really  is  most  unfair  to  the  pupils.  He  brought  you 
here  as  a  stenographer,  let  him  give  you  such  a  posi- 
tion." 

"He  needn't  do  that  either.  I  am  sure  I  can  get 
some  kind  of  a  position  in  the  city.  If  the  food  were 
not  so  wretched,  I'd  make  him  give  me  a  position 
as  stenographer;  but  I  really  don't  want  to  stay.  You 
know,  I  get  awfully  sick.  The  food  doesn't  agree 
with  me  at  all." 

"Now,  my  dear,  since  you  feel  that  way  about 
it,  please,  for  my  sake  and  the  sake  of  these  chil- 
dren, do  not  allow  him  to  persuade  you  to  stay  till 
he  can  get  another  teacher,  because  he  will  forget 
all  about  it." 

"No,  I  won't.  I  allowed  him  to  play  that  trick  on 
me  too  many  times  already.  Miss  Britter,  if  I  con- 
sidered myself  alone,  I  wouldn't  object  to  being  in 
that  room.  It  would  be  nice  and  easy.  But  I  feel 
that  it  is  very  unfair  to  the  little  fellows.  Of  course 
I  do  worry  a  little  about  getting  another  position,  but 


96  A   BUNCH    OF   LITTLE    THIEVES 

I  feel  that  I  have  no  right  to  take  that  into  consid- 
eration." 

"Please  let  me  help  you,  Martha,  will  you?"' 

"Oh,  no,  I  couldn't  think  of  such  a  thing," 

"But  in  case  you  are  in  need,  you  will  write  to 
me?  But  listen,  I  have  some  friends  in  the  city,  I 
will  write  to  them  and  I'm  sure  they  can  help  you 
get  a  good  position." 

"Yes,  I  would  be  thankful  to  you  for  that." 

They  outlined  a  plan  of  action,  and  left  the  office. 
Miss  Tick,  after  promising  to  go  into  the  superin- 
tendent's office  the  first  thing  in  the  afternoon  and 
resign,  went  to  eat  her  lunch,  while  Miss  Britter  took 
the  road  to  the  farm  and  down  the  wooded  valley  to 
the  left. 

"We  waited,  and  waited,  and  waited,  and  waited 
for  you,  and  finally  gave  up  doing  so,  as  you  see," 
said  Nida,  referring  to  herself  and  Rolan  when  they 
met. 

"I  am  sorry  you  waited.  I  didn't  think  it  would 
take  so  long." 

"What  happened?"  asked  Mr.  Rolan. 

"They  don't  want  him." 

"He'll  get  in  anyway.  He'll  corner  them  some 
way." 

"I  hope  so."  Miss  Britter  told  in  every  detail  just 
what  had  happened. 

"I'm  not  fit  to  teach,  either,  for  that  matter,"  said 
Nida.  "I  was  his  confidential  stenographer,  when  a 
vacancy  occurred  and  I  began  to  know  too  much 
about  the  workings  of  the  institution,  and  he  asked 
me  to  take  the  class.  He'd  put  anybody  in  a  class- 
room. Before  you  came  he  used  to  put  that  mule  of 
a  bookkeeper  into  the  classroom,  if  the  teacher  was 


A   BUNCH    OF   LITTLE    THIEVES  97 

absent  or  had  left.  I  remember  a  time,  when  cot- 
tage fathers  were  allowed  to  substitute  in  the  class- 
room, and  would  sit  at  the  desk  with  a  stick  in  their 
hands,  w^hile  the  boys  were  given  large  geographies 
and  allowed  to  look  through  the  books  for  pictures. 
The  boys  would  get  so  sick  of  geographies  they 
couldn't  bear  to  look  at  them — then  the  stick  would 
be  made  use  of.    Oh,  those  were  great  times!" 

"But  you  can't  say  tiiat  about  yourself,  Nida.  In 
your  case  he  just  happened  to  do  the  best  thing.  You 
had  been  here  two  years  by  that  time,  and  had 
known  and  befriended  every  boy  on  the  grounds. 
Besides  you  love  the  work  and  are  interested  in  solv- 
ing the  problems  before  us.  A  college  or  training 
school  diploma  is  not  a  guarantee  of  efficiency,  as 
far  as  teachers  are  concerned.  I  would  at  any  time 
prefer  the  teacher  who  loved  her  work  and  taught 
instinctively  right,  to  the  graduate  of  anything,  if 
the  diploma  was  all  she  had  to  offer.  Miss  Tick, 
however,  hadn't  been  here  more  than  a  few  months, 
when  she  was  asked  to  take  the  first  grade.  She 
has  had  less  of  an  education  than  you  have,  and  she 
is  not  interested  in  the  work.  She  is  a  very  good 
girl  though.  Not  many  would  have  taken  the  stand 
she  has  taken." 

"Aren't  we  going  back  for  lunch?"  asked  Rolan. 

"I  don't  care  to," 

"Neither  do  I." 

"What  are  we  going  to  do  about  it,  anyway? 
We'll  soon  be  skeletons." 

"Let's  go  to  llilldale  again  to-night." 

"That's  bocoming  too  expensive,"  said  Nida. 
"Our  board  and  room  are  considered  as  part  of  our 


98  A   BUNCH    OF   LITTLE    THIEVES 

salaries;  the  other  part  we  have  to  use  to  make  up 
the  inefficiency  and  insufficiency  of  the  first," 

"Just  wait  till  we  settle  this  teacher  business," 
said  Miss  Britter.  "Wait  until  Mr.  Liton  comes,  we'll 
then  get  after  them  for  the  bad  food.  At  present  it 
would  do  no  good  to  complain  about  the  food,  and 
might  do  a  lot  of  harm.  You  see  our  being  particu- 
lar is  a  part  of  the  objection  to  good  teachers." 

"Isn't  it  terrible,  though,  to  think  that  here  we 
are  ready  to  give  the  best  that  is  in  us  for  the  good 
of  the  institution,  and  they  can't  as  much  as  give 
us  a  decent  meal." 

"But  they  don't  want  you  to  give  the  best  that  is 
in  you  for  this  institution — they  don't  want  good 
teachers.  These  boys  are  to  be  the  world's  dirty 
workers,  and  we  interfere  in  the  process  of  prepar- 
ing them  for  it.  This  is  no  reformatory — it  is  merely 
a  convenience.  It  is  a  place  where  boys  who  are 
troublesome  are  to  be  kept  for  a  short  time,  regard- 
less of  what  will  happen  to  them  afterwards.  Socie- 
ty in  this  case  is  like  the  poor  housekeeper  that 
doesn't  clean  but  merely  transfers  the  dirt  and  other 
objectionable  things,  such  as  papers,  and  so  forth, 
to  where  they  won't  be  seen  when  the  neighbor 
comes.  Then  when  the  corners  get  so  full  of  dirt 
that  it  begins  to  slide  back,  she  takes  a  day  ofT  and 
goes  into  a  general  and  thorough  housecleaning. 
Society  has  its  penitentiary  and  electric  chair  for 
that." 

"That's  all  that's  the  matter." 

"Have  you  heard  the  latest?"  asked  Nida,  after 
a  few  moments  of  silent  walking.  "There  is  some- 
thing wrong  with  that  woman.  See  how  she  smiled 
and  fell  all  over  herself  as  if  nothing  had  happened." 


A   BUNCH    OF    LITTLE   THIEVES  99 

"You  mean  Miss  Brand?" 

"Yes." 

"Who  started  that  rumor?"  asked  Rolan. 

"It's  no  mere  rumor.  I  know  Jack;  he's  a  reUa- 
ble  boy.  He  swears  that  he  saw  the  watchman  leave 
her  room  early  yesterday  morning.  If  this  were  the 
first  time,  it  would  be  different;  there  would  be  an 
excuse  for  doubt.  Why  don't  the  boys  start  such 
rumors  about  other  people?" 

"I  wonder  whether  that  is  some  of  the  indecent 
back  talk  for  which  she  sent  Jack  out  to-day?"  said 
Miss  Britter. 

"Think  of  it,"  went  on  Nida,  "this  is  the  third 
affair  of  its  kind  in  the  last  three  months,  besides 
the  experience  I  had  personally  with  her," 

"What  was  your  experience?"  asked  Rolan,  smil- 
ing significantly. 

"Why,  have  you  had  any  experiences  with  her?" 

"What  was  yours?"  repeated  Rolan,  still  smiling. 

"One  night  about  six  weeks  ago,  I  was  to  meet 
one  of  the  girls  at  the  station.  She  was  coming 
home  late  from  the  city,  and  was  afraid  to  walk  up 
here  alone,  i  didn't  care  much  about  going  to  the 
station  alone,  and  seeing  Miss  Brand's  window,  the 
only  one  lit  up,  I  decided  to  ask  her  to  go  with  me. 
When  I  came  into  the  hallway  half  a  dozen  boys 
who  had  been  trying  to  peep  into  her  room  dashed 
back  to  their  sitting  room  where  the  rest  of  the  boys 
were.  I  was  very  angry  and  was  going  to  tell  her 
about  it.  I  rapped  on  her  door,  but  received  no 
answer.  Being  innocent  of  what  it  all  might  be,  I 
rapped  again  and  this  time  much  harder.  Then  I 
heard  an  awful  shifting  about  and  finally  her  ner- 
vous voice,  calling.  "Come  in,'  or  sometliing  which 


100        A   BUNCH    OF   LITTLE   THIEVES 

sounded  like  it,  and  I  opened  the  door.  There  she 
sat,  red  as  a  beet,  and  not  far  from  her  sat  Papa 
Bloate  looking  like  a  lost  sheep." 

"What  did  they  say?" 

"Oh,  she  tried  to  frame  all  kinds  of  excuses.  She 
looked  a  sight.  I  couldn't  stand  it.  Excusing  my- 
self, I  escaped." 

"Where  was  Mrs.  Bloate?" 

"It  was  her  day  off.    She  was  in  town." 

"These  are  the  people  who  teach  in  a  refor- 
matory. I  sometimes  feel  like  running  off  where  I 
shall  never  hear  of  reformation  again.  One  begins 
to  feel  that  the  so-called  immoral  and  criminal,  who 
are  at  least  open  about  their  immorality  and  crimi- 
nality, are  but  a  handful  and  extremely  honorable  as 
compared  to  the  many  so-called  moral  people,  who 
hide  their  iniquity." 

"Krammer  knows  all  about  it,"  said  Nida.  "He 
evidently  likes  such  people.  Two  years  ago  we  had 
a  terrible  time  here  with  three  such  people.  These 
women  simply  went  wild.  The  things  they  did  were 
horrifying.  Reilly,  himself,  was  discharged  from 
the  City  Reformatory  for  immoral  reasons  but 
Krammer  took  him  just  the  same."* 

"Mind  you,"  began  Miss  Britter,  "she  has  the 
right  to  do  as  she  pleases  oiY  the  grounds,  but  here 


charged  at  the  hearing  that 


trucker  and  in  charge  of  the cottage,  and 

his  wife,  had  been  discharged  from  the  schools  for  cruelty. 
They  were  engaged,  he  says,  by  the  house  of  detention  in 
this  city  and  later  discharged,  whereupon  they  were  rehired 

at    througli    assistant 

superintendent.    says  is  the  official  flogger 

of  the  institution  at ." — Philadelphia  Times, 

Feb.  20,  1913. 


A   BUNCIT    OF   LITTLE   THIEVES         101 

where  she  is  supposed  \o  help  in  the  iuslruclion  of 
morals — what  a  farce  to  allow  such  a  woman  to 
teach?" 

"What's  the  use?"  said  Rolan,  "If  Liton  doesn't 
come  down  here  we  might  as  well  get  johs  else- 
where." 

"Yet,"  said  Miss  Britter,  "If  I  were  forced  to  leave 
this  place  I  should  go  mad." 

"You  know,"  said  Nida,  "in  the  four  years  that 
I  have  heen  here  I  have  packed  my  trunk  a  dozen 
times.  I  paclv  and  write  out  my  resignation,  then 
I  go  out  for  a  walk,  and  the  thought  of  leaving  these 
poor  abused  boys  and  the  hills  just  breaks  my  heart 
and  I  tear  up  my  resignation." 

"There  is  a  fascination  about  the  whole  business, 
the  boys,  the  hills,  and  so  on,  that  outweighs  my 
objections,  too,"  added  Rolan. 

They  were  just  climbing  up  the  hill  on  their  way 
back  to  school  when  they  saw  "Eddy,"  the  shepherd 
boy,  running  towards  tliem  breathlessly.  His  pock- 
ets were  bulging  out  witli  hickory  nuts,  and  his  arms 
were  loaded  with  apples  and  flowers,  all  of  which 
he  unloaded  hastily  into  their  hands,  beaming  all 
the  while.  "I  saw  you  go  down  the  hill,"  he  said, 
"and  I  picked  these  for  you  to  take  with  you  wlien 
you  came  back."  With  tliis  he  returned  hastily  to 
his  sheep. 

Tliis  had  come  as  an  appeal  on  the  part  of  the 
boys  as  a  whole,  and  in  tlieir  hearts  tliey  answered 
it — no,  no  matter  wliat  would  happen,  they  should 
not  leave. 


CHAPTER  IX 

SOME   MORE   TEACHERS 

The  next  day  brought  a  cold,  clear  autumn  morn- 
ing, and  the  bugle  called  its  six  o'clock  message  long 
after  Miss  Britter  had  already  made  a  dozen  different 
considerations  for  a  dozen  different  boys,  in  the  lit- 
tle note  book  she  kept  for  the  purpose.  The  usual 
sounds  filled  her  with  a  kind  of  restlessness,  and  her 
own  four  walls  became  too  small  for  her.  She  de- 
sired to  go  out  and  see  the  whole  grounds,  the  whole 
beloved  vista,  perhaps  frost-touched,  the  autumn 
sky,  and  her  l3oys  going  to  the  flag-pole. 

"Oh,  no,  whatever  happens,"  she  said  to  herself, 
and  took  a  deep  breath  of  cool  air. 

The  cow-boys  went  for  their  cows  quietly  until 
they  neared  the  barn,  and  were  out  of  the  Colonel's 
reach.  Then  they  began  singing  and  calling  to  each 
other  so  that  they  filled  the  air  with  gladness.  The 
reformatory  atmosphere  was  filled  with  the  hurry- 
ing of  little  foot-falls  and  military  commands,  and, 
with  the  straight  and  rising  smoke  above  the  dining- 
room,  came  the  smell  of  coffee  and  the  sound  of 
knives  and  forks  and  plates. 

Miss  Britter  went  for  a  walk,  and  came  back  in 
time  for  breakfast.  At  the  table  she  was  introduced 
as  the  principal  to  a  very  formal,  wild-eyed,  slightly 
deaf  and  very  well-meaning  lady,  who  was  to  take 
the  High  School  class. 

"Do  you  think  I  can  manage  it?"  she  asked  very 
nervously,  and  Miss  Britter  was  very  sorry  for  her. 


A    BUNCH    OF    LITTLE    THIEVES         103 

She  had  to  do  very  httle  thinking  about  it — Miss 
Upstir  lasted  just  one  day. 

"That  horrible  High  School  class  is  a  hopeless 
lot  of  devils,"  sighed  one  of  a  small  collection  of 
cottage  mothers,  gathered  in  front  of  the  dining- 
room,  while  the  boys  were  hauling  down  the  flag 
that  evening. 

"It's  Miss  Britter's  angelic  way  of  handling 
them,"  said  another  sarcastically,  with  a  twist  of  her 
mouth. 

"I  am  willing  to  wager,"  put  in  an  unsuccessful 
circus  lady,  "that  they  never  will  fmd  a  teacher  who 
will  handle  them." 

"What  they  need,"  said  a  straight-looking  blue- 
law  cottage  mother,  "is  a  good  sound  beating  by 
Colonel  Reilly,  and  the  coop  for  a  few  weeks  with 
bread  and  water.  I'd  make  'em  mind  if  I  had  the 
say.  You  find  none  of  them  cuttin'  up  much  in  my 
cottage.  I  got  an  old  shoe  that  I  use  across  the  mouth 
now  and  then  when  they  try  to  give  me  back  talk." 

Miss  Britter,  Miss  Cane,  and  Mr.  Rolan  decided  to 
dine  out  that  evening,  and  when  the  last  little  fellow 
limped  his  way  into  the  dining-room,  they  could 
have  been  seen  making  their  way  down  the  narrow 
path  on  a  short  cut  to  Hilldale. 

"What  are  you  going  to  do  about  her?"  asked 
Rolan. 

"I'm  going  to  try  her  to-morrow  in  the  first  grade, 
and  I  can  tell  you  to-morrow  only.  I  simply  will 
not  let  him  send  in  such  creatures  to  ruin  my  boys. 
Whatever  she  might  have  been  able  to  do  years  ago, 
I  am  sure  that  no  school  of  any  importance  would 
tolerate  her,  poor  woman,  now.     She's  a  nervous 


104        A   BUNCH    OP   LITTLE    THIEVES 

w  reck  and  ought  to  have  the  opporl unity  to  rest  for 
the  next  five  years  or  so." 

"I  have  an  idea,"  said  Rolan,  suddenly.  "I  am 
going  to  telephone  to  Liton  and  tell  him  that  this 
woman  is  a  failure,  and  that  he  should  get  at  them 
from  the  other  side." 

"Good!" 

"You  remain  out  here  and  watch,"  said  Rolan, 
when  they  reached  the  post  office  in  Abolt,  "and  I'll 
go  in  and  call  him  up.  Should  any  of  our  gossiping 
friends  be  coming  this  way,  you  appear  inside  and 
I'll  cut  it  short." 

No  gossips  having  shown  themselves,  Rolan  was 
not  disturbed  and  soon  came  out  partly  vexed  and 
partly  expectant. 

"He's  got  something  up  his  sleeve." 

"Couldn't  you  converse  with  him?" 

"Not  much.  He  seemed  to  be  with  some  one  he 
did  not  wish  to  have  hear  about  our  scheme." 

"What  did  he  say?" 

"  'Will  see  you  soon.  Good  bye,'  was  all  he  said, 
after  greeting  me.  I  felt  that  he  wanted  me  to  hang 
up  the  receiver,  and  so  I  did.  He's  making  his  way 
here,  I'm  thinking." 

Hilldale,  by  the  time  they  reached  it,  was  all  lit 
up,  and  Main  street  was  thronged  with  people 
going  in  both  directions  and,  probably,  considering 
the  usual,  for  every  conceivable  purpose. 

The  little  restaurant  to  which  they  had  acquired 
the  habit  of  applying  the  possessive  pronoun,  our, 
was  as  gay  and  brilliant  as  ever,  and  the  smell  of 
its  coffee,  was  most  appetizing.  One  table  was 
entirely  unoccupied  and  seemed  to  have  been  waiting 
for  them. 


A   BUNCH    OF   LITTLE   THIEVES        105 

They  reached  I  lie  grounds  Ihai  niglit  long  after 
liie  lights  had  been  shut  off.  Mr.  Rolan  went  to  his 
quarters,  and  Mda  and  Miss  Britter  went  to  one  of 
their  cottages,  and  sat  down  where  they  could  look 
into  the  dark  valley  and  over  the  dark  hill  and  its 
monastery  towers  and  into  the  clear  nocturnal 
autumn  sky.  They  talked  over  many  important 
things  until  the  desire  for  sleep  made  great  inroads 
upon  their  energy  and  they  retired. 

Miss  Britter  went  to  her  office  early  next  morning, 
and  repeated  to  herself  many  times,  "What  shall  I 
do  with  that  High  School  class?"  and  finally  con- 
cluded that  unless  she  could  take  them  herself,  they 
would  become  uncontrollable.  "I'll  keep  my  doors 
open,  and  attend  to  the  principal's  duties  as  well." 
She  accordingly  began  the  preparation  of  her  day's 
progress;  but  she  had  hardly  completed  half  of  it 
when  the  door  opened  and  Nida,  full  of  excitement, 
rushed  in. 

"Say,  I  heard  a  new  rumor.  Krammer  got  a 
telephone  message  last  night  that  a  new  teacher  is 
coming  this  morning,  and  from  the  excitement 
everywhere  I  take  it  that,  much  to  Krammer's  dis- 
may, Liton  has  worked  his  way  in,  and  is  coming." 

"The  carriage  meeting  the  early  morning  train 
ought  to  be  here  soon;  let's  watch  for  it." 

"There  it  comes  now." 

The  carriage  stopped  in  front  of  the  superintend- 
ent's cottage,  and  Mr.  Krammer  came  out  to  meet  it. 
When  Mr.  Liton  stepped  off,  they  shook  hands. 

Rumors  had  been  spread  explaining  the  desire 
on  the  part  of  his  friends  to  get  him  into  the  service 
of  Abolt  School  and  the  opposition  met  in  doing  so; 
and  then,  when  many  had  delighted  in  the  fact  that 


i06        A    BUiNGH    OF    LITTLE    THIEVES 

an  additional  believer  in  the  angelic  treatment  of 
little  criminals  had  been  successfully  barred  from 
entering,  he  came.  What  excitement  on  the 
grounds ! 

Mr.  Bloate  and  Mr.  Galhvin  even  went  so  far  as 
to  defame  his  character  within  hearing  of  their 
boys,  by  slurring  remarks.  Boys  do  not  need  much 
of  that  kind  of  encouragement — they  took  all  that 
for  license,  and  were  going  to  have  some  fun. 
Many  of  them,  however,  had  so  little  respect  for 
their  officers  that  they  were  either  indifferent  or 
merely  curious. 

Mr.  Liton,  on  the  other  hand,  was  not  left  un- 
informed, and  knowing  the  circumstances,  deter- 
mined to  keep  absolutely  cool,  to  say  very  little,  and 
to  accomplish  as  much  as  possible.  He  took  in  the 
entire  situation  with  an  eye  half  closed,  and  weighed 
his  conclusions  carefully. 

He  was  angry  at  himself  when,  a  little  later,  while 
arranging  things  in  his  room,  he  felt  a  growing 
nervousness  at  the  sound  of  the  first  bell ;  but  when 
he  saw  twenty  of  the  largest  boys  in  the  reformatory 
march  in  quietly  but  with  an  occasional  wink  to 
each  other,  he  sobered  up.  Every  muscle  in  his  face 
pulled  tight  and  he  gazed  with  an  expression  of  '*So 
you  think  so,  do  you?"  and  it  had  the  desired  effect. 

Mr.  Liton  arranged  the  books  on  his  desk, 
straightened  out  whatever  about  it  was  not  straight 
and  acted  with  a  familiarity  worthy  of  a  teacher  of 
experience  and  ability.  Whatever  fear  he  had  was 
hidden  within  him ;  externally  there  was  indifference 
and  absorption  in  the  work  before  him. 

"I  understand,"  he  began  slowly,  "that  you  have 
been  unfortunately  losing  a  great  deal  of  time.    You 


A   BUNCH   OF   LITTLE   THIEVES         107 

should  be  very  much  farther  in  your  work  than  you 
are.  In  the  bity  High  School  we  are  very  much 
ahead  of  you.  But  we  must  lose  no  more  time  from 
now  on.  It  may  take  me  a  day  or  two  to  find  out 
just  what  you  do  and  don't  know. 

"Our  first  lesson  this  morning  will  be  in  Ancient 
History.  I  know  that  you  have  already  begun  to 
study  it,  but  to  make  sure  that  we  understand  each 
other,  I  want  to  begin  from  the  very  beginning,  and 
whatever  you  show  me  that  you  know  well  enough 
we  shall  spend  little  time  on. 

"Have  you  ever  asked  yourselves  just  why  we 
should  spend  our  valuable  time  studying  history — 
why  we  should  study  about  these  people  who  lived  so 
long  ago,  did  their  work  good  or  bad,  and  disap- 
peared?" 

"I  don't  think  there  is  a  real  good  reason,"  said 
one  fellow. 

"Because  we  should  know  what  our  ancestors 
did — that  is  education,"  said  another. 

"Who  invented  the  steamboat?"  asked  Mr.  Liton. 

"Robert  Fulton,"  several  answered  at  one  time. 

"Did  Robert  Fulton  invent  one  of  those  floating 
palaces  that  rush  across  the  ocean  from  New  York 
to  Liverpool  in  a  few  days?" 

"No,"  answered  a  tall  fellow,  smiling,  "he  in- 
vented a  rickety  old  thing  that  crawled  up  the 
Hudson." 

"How,  then,  did  we  get  to  the  floating  palaces?" 
Mr.  Liton  called  upon  a  very  thoughtful-looking 
fellow  seated  in  back  of  the  room  apart  from  the 
others. 

"Every  generation,"  he  began,  and  Mr.  Liton 
heard  a  whisper  from  some  part  of  the  room  to  the 


108        A   BUNCH    OF    LITTLE    THIEVES 

effect  that  Mr.  Dictionary  had  Ijeguii  to  speak,  but 
paid  no  attention  to  it,  "improved  a  little  upon  it. 
The  first  generation  made  it  a  little  better  than  Ful- 
ton, some  one  in  the  next  generation  made  it  still 
better,  and  so  on."     He  sat  down. 

"Exactly.  Now,  then,  who  can  tell  me  just  what 
made  each  of  these  inventors  improve  a  little  upon 
what  the  previous  one  did?" 

These  were  questions  that  anybody  who  could 
think  at  all  could  answer,  and  nobody  stood  any 
chance  of  making  a  fool  of  himself,  and  so  every- 
body in  the  room  wanted  to  answer.  Interest  was 
aroused,  dictionary  men  were  left  alone,  and  the 
boys  actually  forgot  that  they  had  a  new  teacher, 
and  that  any  fun  was  to  be  gotten  from  that  fact. 
There  was  quite  a  little  flutter  of  hands  and  Mr. 
Liton,  delighted  with  the  excitement,  called  upon  a 
little  fellow  who  was  almost  out  of  his  seat  with  the 
desire  to  have  his  small  hand  reach  as  far  as  that  of 
his  bigger  fellows. 

"The  first  man  after  Fulton,"  he  began,  "studied 
Fulton's  old  boat  and  found  that  he  could  make  it 
better.  He  invented  a  number  of  small  parts  that 
made  it  better  and  so  did  the  others." 

"Well,  then,"  went  on  Mr.  Liton,  "the  whole 
world  of  people  is  just  like  that  boat."  He  was  in- 
terrupted by  another  flutter  of  hands,  and  called  on 
another  fellow. 

"I  know  why  we  should  study  history,"  he 
blurted  out  in  fear  that  some  one  might  get  ahead  of 
him. 

"W^y?" 

"So  that  like  the  fellows  that  studied  Fulton's  old 


A   BUNCH    OF   LITTLE   THIEVES        109 

boat,  we  should  study  how  the  people  before  us  did 
everything,  so  we  can  do  things  better." 

"Very  good.  But  not  only  how  they  did  things, 
but  how  they  thought  and  acted  towards  each  other. 
People,  by  studying  those  that  lived  before  them  and 
themselves,  began  to  act  less  cruelly  toward  each 
other;  they  began  to  live  cleaner  and  think  and  work 
more,  and,  in  short,  they  improved  their  condition. 
They  saw  the  mistakes  their  fathers  made  and 
stopped  making  them  themselves.  For  instance, 
once  upon  a  time,  men  were  put  into  jail  and  even 
killed  for  being  in  debt,  for  owing  another  man 
some  money.  Then  the  world  began  to  see  that  it 
did  not  stop  people  from  getting  into  debt;  that  they 
got  into  debt  because  they  had  to.  So  they  were 
ashamed  of  their  fathers  who  killed  men  for  it,  and 
stopped  it." 

Many  instances  of  how  the  world  became  wiser 
and  better  were  cited  by  difTerent  boys,  and  Mr. 
Liton  finally  called  on  some  one  to  make  a  statement 
that  would  be  good  to  use  as  an  answer  to  the 
question,  "Why  do  we  study  history?"  and  the  boy 
called  Mr.  Dictionary,  sitting  in  back  of  the  room, 
offered  to  do  so. 

"We  study  history,"  said  he,  "that  we  should 
Irarn  the  mistakes  our  forefathers  made  and  avoid 
making  them  ourselves,  thus  improving  the  race," 
and  every  boy  agreed  that  that  was  a  good  answer 
and  wrote  it  down  in  his  note  book. 

Mr.  Liton  then  went  on  with  the  beginning  of 
history.  He  drew  a  very  vivid  mental  picture  of 
our  barbarous  ancestors,  making  their  way  down 
from  the  unknown  central  Asia  to  India  and  Greece. 
Then  he  returned  to  tli<;'  barbarians  on  their  way  to 


no        A    BUNCH    OF    LITTLE    THIEVES 

India.  A  discussion  was  held,  from  which  was  de- 
veloped the  fact  that  these  barbarous  people  were  in 
the  main  shepherds,  that  that  occupation  filled  them 
with  "wunderlust,"  and  led  them  to  go  farther  and 
farther,  even  encroaching  upon  the  lands  of  their 
less  strong  neighbors. 

The  response  on  the  part  of  the  boys  was  a 
stimulant  to  Mr.  Liton,  who  was  bubbling  over  with 
enthusiasm  himself,  and  when  he  found  himself, 
swinging  naturally  and  noiselessly  to  Algebra  and 
English  Literature,  and  when  he  saw  that  these  little 
criminals  were  waxing  hotter  and  hotter  with  enthu- 
siasm as  they  went  along,  his  delight  was  most  in- 
tense, for  he  realized  that  his  success  was  made ;  and 
at  noon,  when  Miss  Britter  informed  him  that  the 
boys  were  wild  with  excitement,  spreading  the 
rumor  that  they  now  had  the  best  teacher  they  ever 
had  had,  he  said:  "There  is  no  telling  what 
wonders  these  boys  will  yet  show.  I  never  had  so 
bright  a  class." 


CHAPTER  X 

NEW  FORCES 

Kaiky  and  Skinny,  whose  real  names  were  re- 
spectively Richard  (or  Dick)  Kennen,  and  Ludwig 
(or  Lud)  Dampfel,  were  detained  only  one  week  in 
quarantine,  and,  after  the  desired  discharge  was 
made  by  Mr.  Sarving,  they  were  taken,  like  all  the 
rest  of  the  newcomers,  to  Cottage  One. 

Michael  was  beside  himself  for  joy.  Every 
moment  of  freedom  was  spent  together,  on  the  pile 
of  stones,  in  a  corner  of  the  playground,  in  the  base- 
ment, or  at  recess  on  the  fence  back  of  the  school 
grounds. 

They  were  seated  on  the  pile  of  stones  one  after- 
noon a  few  days  later,  and  talking  things  over  in  a 
confidential  manner,  when  Mr.  Bloate,  to  whom 
such  conduct  spelled  conspiracy,  approached. 

"Mike,"  he  called  out,  "come  here!  Did  you 
patch  them  stockings?" 

"No,  sir,  Mrs.  Bloate  has  us  do  that  after  play 
time." 

"Play  time  nothing.  You  should  have  done  that 
yesterday,  after  play  time." 

"I  wanted  to,  but  I  had  lots  of  other  things  to  do 
then,  too,"  said  Michael,  angrily,  feeling  that  this 
was  but  a  pretext  to  keep  him  from  his  friends. 

"Too  bad  about  you.  You'd  better  stand  on  line 
for  the  rest  of  the  afternoon." 

"I  did  have  other  things  to  do,  and  Mrs.  Bloate 
told  mc  to  do  them,"  said  Michael,  crying. 


112        A   BUNCH    OF    LITTLE    THIEVES 

"Back  talk  again!"  cried  Mr.  Bloate,  "William, 
you  see  that  this  fellow  stands  on  line  for  the  rest  of 
the  week." 

Poor  Michael  swallowed  his  anger,  wiped  a  few 
tears  off  his  cheeks,  and  stood  himself  up  with  his 
face  to  the  wall,  and  his  back  to  the  playground  and 
the  boys.    Was  ever  a  boy's  lot  more  bitter! 

Kaiky  and  Skinny  who  had  introduced  them- 
selves to  the  boys  as  Dick  and  Lud,  were  very  angry 
at  this,  but  remained  where  they  were  on  the  pile 
of  stones,  until  Father  Bloate  disappeared,  taking 
William  with  him ;  then  they  stole  up  towards  Mike 
with  the  intention  of  keeping  him  company. 

"Look  out  for  'im,"  Michael  warned. 

But  they  didn't  look  out,  and  he  came  out  and 
caught  them.  He  merely  looked  at  them,  however, 
until  they  crawled  away,  then  returned  to  his  work 
inside.  But  Father  Bloate  was  of  the  opinion  that 
there  was  a  conspiracy  there  to  run  away,  and 
watched.  Sure  enough,  they  were  trying  to  get 
back  again.  He  watched  from  a  tiny  hole  in  the 
window  blind  of  one  of  the  basement  windows. 

Dick  worried  a  little  about  this  playing  with  Are, 
and  soon  went  off  with  some  of  the  other  boys  to 
play  a  game  of  handball ;  but  Skinny  Lud  was  more 
faithful  and,  despite  the  warnings  of  his  friend, 
thinking  that  his  own  weakness  would  protect  him 
now  as  usual,  remained  with  Michael  and  continued 
the  conversation,  exchanging  dirty  cigarette  picture 
cards,  with  which  they  had  played. 

Father  Bloate  was  determined  to  fix  the  "kid." 
He  made  his  way  out  through  the  front  door  and 
crept  along  the  side  of  the  wall.  A  boy  who  saw 
what  was  coming  turned  his  back  on  the  scene 


A   BUNCH    OF   LITTLE   THIEVES         113 

and  yelled  "Cheese  it!"  But  poor  Liid  was  too  busy 
to  take  the  warning.  One  of  the  little  pictures  had 
fallen  to  the  ground  and  he  stooped  to  pick  it  up. 
Before  he  could  rise  again,  Bloate's  hand  was  upon 
his  neck,  and  he  was  dragged  down  into  the  base- 
ment, and  from  there  into  the  engine  room,  the  most 
popularly  hated  corner  of  each  cottage.  Shutting 
the  door  so  that  no  amount  of  crying  might  penetrate 
and  reach  any  ears  without.  Father  Bloate  grabbed  a 
broken  broomstick  and  commenced  the  first  and 
most  terrible  beating  in  all  Skinny's  underfed  life.* 
He  begged  and  screamed  and  danced,  but  of  no  avail. 
Then  he  feigned  a  fainting  spell,  and  finally  fainted 
in  earnest.  So  weak  had  his  little  system  always 
been  that  a  hard  slap  or  a  twist  of  his  arm  was  often 
enough  to  make  liim  faint.  Skinny  fainted,  and, 
had  some  kindly  spirit  been  about,  to  direct  the 
course  of  things  with  a  philanthropic  purpose, 
Skinny  would  never  have  awakened  from  his  faint. 
But  the  spirit  of  destiny  is  neither  wise  nor  kind,  and 
Skinny  did  awake — a  different  kind  of  a  boy.  All 
the  playfulness  was  beaten  out  of  him,  and  now  he 
was  truly  sick — sick  in  mind  and  body. 

Out  doors,  the  few  who  had  their  play  time  that 
day  were  gathered  into  a  line  once  more,  waiting  for 
those  who  scrubbed  and  cleaned  and  dusted  to  leave 
their  dirty  rags,  to  wipf  their  wet  and  chapped 
hands,  and  fall  in  with  them,  to  straighten  up  in 
spite  of  aching  backs  and  knees,  and  to  join  the  soul- 
killing  marches  to  the  flag-pole  and  dining  room. 

At  the  supper  table,  Ludwig  ate  very  little.  His 
yellow  face  bore  the  expression  of  his  share  of  the 


"See  newspaper  urllcles  in  appendix. 


114        A   BUNCH    OF   LITTLE   THIEVES 

world's  misery,  and  was  not  only  weak-looking  but 
sad,  making  one  feel  that,  if  he  only  dared  to,  he 
would  cry  again  and  keep  on  crying,  for  the  bitter- 
ness was  still  heavy  upon  his  little  heart.  Mrs. 
Bloate  was  a  woman,  and  the  maternal  spark  still 
left  smouldering  within  her  heart  by  the  artificial 
relations  she  had  felt  and  kept  towards  these  outcast 
children,  was  awakened.  She  walked  towards  him 
and  told  him  to  eat  more.  She  brought  him  a  nice 
little  cake  that  she  had  procured  from  the  staff 
tables,  and  not  one  of  the  boys  about  him  was  jeal- 
ous of  the  act.  In  fact,  all  those  boys  would  have 
given  him  the  very  best  they  could  conceive  of  had 
that  been  possible,  they  were  so  sorry  for  him. 

After  supper,  and  when  out  on  the  heap  of  stones, 
Michael  and  Dick  and  all  the  rest  of  the  boys  of 
Cottage  One  who  were  not  cleaning  up  the  dining 
room  and  kitchen,  gathered  about  him,  and  tried  in 
their  childish  ways  to  make  him  forget  his  troubles, 
till  Father  Bloate  came  out  and  told  Michael  and 
several  others  to  attend  to  their  mending. 

The  bell  on  the  front  door  of  Cottage  One  rang, 
and  Mrs.  Bloate  went  to  answer  it. 

Mr.  Liton  greeted  her  with  a  pleasant  "Good 
evening,"  when  she  opened  the  door,  and  she  half- 
heartedly smiled  in  reply. 

"Mrs.  Bloate,"  he  began,  "I  have  come  to  or- 
ganize your  cottage  into  a  club.  May  I  have  the 
boys  in  the  sitting  room?" 

"Oh,  no,"  said  Mrs.  Bloate,  "we  have  a  lot  of 
mending  to  do  tonight,  and  I  can't  bother  with  clubs 
just  now." 

"But  you  needn't  bother  at  all,  Mrs.  Bloate,  I  will 
attend  to  that.    I  merely  want  the  boys.    I  would 


A    BUNCH    OF    LITTLE    THIEVES         115 

be  very  glad  to  have  your  cooperation,  but  if  it  is  a 
bother  to  you,  I  can  attend  to  it  myself." 

"They  had  a  club  anyway,  and  nothin'  came  of  it 
— they  don't  care  enough  about  it." 

"That  isn't  the  point,  Mrs.  Bloate.  Mr.  Kram- 
mer  has  asked  me  to  organize  all  the  cottages,  and 
has  ordered  all  to  cooperate  with  me.  If  you  don't 
wish  to  work  with  me,  why  leave  it  to  me,  but  it's 
got  to  be  done." 

"Many  of  the  boys  aren't  home  now;  they  are 
detailed  in  the  dining  room." 

"The  Colonel  promised  to  detain  none  of  tlie  boys 
of  Cottage  One  to-night.     They  ought  to  be  here." 

"Well  they're  not." 

"Then  I  will  go  back  and  get  them,  and  will 
return  in  about  fifteen  minutes." 

Mr.  Liton  soon  returned  with  the  missing  boys, 
and  \\'illiam  ordered  all  to  "fall  in"  to  be  marched 
into  the  sitting  room. 

The  sitting  room,  like  those  in  all  the  other 
cottages,  was  divided  into  halves  by  the  unused  fire- 
place in  the  center  of  the  longest  wall.  Curtains 
covered  the  windows,  and  mission  picture  frames, 
in  harmony  with  the  mission  furniture,  hung  upon 
the  walls,  enclosing  a  few  old-time  sentimental 
pictures  and  one  large  print — a  portrait  of  Wash- 
ington. The  room  in  general  was  very  neat  and 
rich-looking,  so  that  the  sallow  faces,  the  somewhat 
ragged  clothes  and  the  wet  eyes  that  formed  a  semi- 
circular mass  about  Mr.  Liton  and  his  little  table, 
seemed  very  much  out  of  place.  William  stood  in 
the  rear  with  a  long  stick  in  his  hand  and  any  boy 
that  did  anything  not  to  his  liking,  he  punished  by 


116        A    BUNCH    OF    LITTLE    THIEVES 

a  whack  with  that  stick.  This  was  done  several 
times  before  Mr.  Liton  lost  his  patience. 

"William,"  he  said,  "I  don't  know  what  you  may 
have  been  accustomed  to  do  at  other  meetings;  but 
you  will  please  leave  the  boys  entirely  in  my  charge 
when  I'm  in  the  room." 

"I  want  you  to  feel,"  he  began  addressing  the 
club  with  a  sincere  appealing  expression  on  his 
face,  "that  this  is  your  meeting  and  to  be  your  club 
when  organized.  During  these  meetings  you  are  to 
forget  the  meaning  of  superiority.  You  are  as  good 
as  I  am  and  I  am  as  good  as  you  are.  We  are  all 
citizens  and  brothers.  If  I  am  bigger  than  you  are, 
I  am  merely  a  big  brother.  You  must  feel  free  to 
ask  all  the  questions  you  like,  and  to  say  just  what 
you  want  to  say.  But,  you  know,  that  at  all  meet- 
ings that  men  hold  they  do  not  talk  all  at  once,  be- 
cause nothing  could  ever  be  done  if  they  did.  If 
you  wish  to  say  something,  ask  for  the  "floor,"  and 
one  at  a  time  you  will  have  the  chance  to  say  what 
you  please.  Of  course,  too,  if  any  boy  talks  to  his 
neighbor,  it  will  be  hard  for  the  rest  of  us  to  hear 
what's  going  on,  so  you  will  please  not  do  that. 

"Now,  to-night  we  have  two  things  to  do,  this 
being  our  first  meeting.  We  must  get  to  understand 
what  this  club  is  for,  and  then  we  must  organize — 
elect  officers,  so  that  next  week  some  time  we  can 
begin  to  do  our  real  work.  The  purpose  of  this  club 
is  to  unite  all  the  boys  into  a  republic,  and  this 
republic  is  to  exist  for  the  benefit  of  every  boy.  That 
is,  with  it  you  will  have  the  chance  to  do  a  great 
many  things  for  your  own  good  and  happiness. 
We  want  to  learn  more;  and  we  want  to  have  more 
fun  and  good  times ;  and  we  want  to  do  many  other 


A   BUNCH    OF   LITTLE   THIEVES        117 

intoresfing-  Ihiiiiis.  ^^>  eaii  liavo  a  literary  rom- 
mittee  that  can  arrange  for  parties,  with  recitations 
and  readings,  and  debates.  I  should  like  to  see  you 
publish  a  school  magazine.  This  committee,  too, 
can  see  about  that.  You  can  write  stories  and 
poems,  and  publish  them.  With  a  magazine  you 
could  do  many  other  things,  but  we'll  talk  about 
that  later,  or  let  you  do  your  own  thinking  about  it. 
We  can  also  have  an  athletic  committee  that  can 
make  arrangements  for  ball  games  and  athletic 
sports  in  general. 

"We  will  have  a  council  made  up  of  a  represen- 
tative from  each  cottage  and  class  room,  that  will 
fight  for  the  interests  of  the  boys,  try  to  avoid 
reports  where  possible,  and  help  them  in  a  thousand 
ways. 

"I  think  most  of  the  trouble  in  this  world  comes 
from  somebody's  not  understanding  something 
somebody  else  said  or  did.  A  boy  gets  into  trouble  at 
school  very  often,  not  because  he  is  mean  or  wants 
to  do  what  is  wrong,  but  because  he  doesn't  under- 
stand something  the  teacher  wants.  If  teachers, 
cottage  parents  and  boys  understood  what  was 
wrong  b('t\\-ecn  them,  we  would  have  no  reports  and 
no  trouble.  Tiiis  council  will  look  into  all  the  trou- 
bles between  the  teachers  and  the  boys  and  will  see 
that  both  understand  each  other,  and  in  that  way, 
wherever  possil)Ie,  keep  reports  away. 

"When  you  show  Mr.  Krammer  that  you  like 
your  republic  and  will  live  up  to  your  constitution 
and  all  its  by-laws,  which  you  will  make  as  agree- 
ments between  each  other  and  the  officers  for  every- 
body's good,  he  will  let  you  go  out  with  us  for  long 
walks  in  the  woods,  and  will  let  you  do  many  other 


118        A   BUNCH    OF   LITTLE   THIEVES 

things  that  you  can't  do  now.  Perhaps  we  can  get 
a  photography  outfit.  I  can  teach  you  how  to  take 
pictures,  so  that  we  can  take  our  cameras  with  us 
on  these  walks,  make  pictures  of  the  scenery  about 
this  place,  and  then  hang  them  up  in  our  class  rooms 
and  cottages.  We  can  do  many,  many  interesting 
things,  and  you  will  be  a  happy  set  of  boys  if  you 
work  for  this  republic  and  help  it  grow  strong.  You 
must  think  of  it  all  the  time  and  work  for  it  every 
chance  you  get.  It  will  be  yours,  and  everything  you 
do  for  it  you  will  be  doing  for  yourselves.  By  you, 
in  this  case,  I  mean  all  of  you  boys." 

Every  face  beamed  with  new  life,  and  every  eye 
flashed  with  excitement,  every  little  soul  bubbled 
with  enthusiasm  and  hope.  Some  rose  to  give  their 
ideas,  others,  unable  to  contain  themselves  bent  over 
to  tell  their  important  plans  to  their  neighbors,  while 
many,  whipped  into  stupidity,  sat,  their  faces 
flushed,  contented  to  let  their  neighbors  plan  that 
they  might  do  whatever  was  bid. 

The  club  was  named  and  organized.  A  strong 
set  of  officers  was  elected,  and  Mr.  Liton  expressed 
his  regret  at  having  to  go,  and  wished  them  "Good 
night." 

He  was  answered  by  more  than  thirty  individual 
"good  nights"  and  a  round  of  applause  that  lasted 
till  he  was  outside  of  that  cottage  and  on  his  way 
to  the  next. 

It  made  no  difference  what  cottage  he  went  to, 
one  reputed  as  bad,  or  another  ordinarily  good,  all 
responded  alike — with  overwhelming  enthusiasm. 

"They  were  nice  with  me  the  first  day,  too,"  Mr. 
Liton  repeated  to  himself,  and  laughed.  It  was  not 
the  first  day  only  that  made  Miss  Brand  and  others 


A   BUiNGH    OF   LITTLE    THIEVES        119 

wonder  how  he  did  it.  The  terrible  High  School 
class  that  had  been  uncontrollable  responded  with 
almost  sentimental  emotion.  The  boys  loved  Mr. 
Liton,  and  when  visitors  came  next  Sunday,  they 
were  asked  to  look  sharp  at  the  "young  man  over 
there,"  because  he  was  the  "best  man  that  ever  came 
to  that  institution,"  and  this  was  the  boy's  own  opin- 
ion against  the  defaming  attempts  of  their  superiors. 
The  Republic,  the  photographic  class,  the  magazine 
— nothing  else  was  talked  about.  Parents  were  asked 
to  bring  small  cameras,  pencils  and  special  kinds 
of  copy  books  for  stories  and  poems,  and  many  boys 
spent  much  of  their  time  writing  them,  for  before 
long  the  editorial  desk  was  packed  with  manu- 
scripts. 

The  organizing  week  had  passed,  and  three  hun- 
dred and  more  boys  were  organized  into  the  Repub- 
lic of  Abolt,  with  committees  to  draw  up  the  con- 
stitution and  by-laws;  and  the  following  Friday  af- 
ternoon was  the  day  set  for  a  popular  meeting  for 
the  adoption  of  the  constitution. 

The  Committee  on  Constitution  worked  very 
hard,  and  at  the  meeting  on  Thursday  evening,  in 
Mr.  Liton's  class  room,  it  was  completed,  but  so 
busily  had  they  been  working  there  that  no  one 
thought  of  the  hour  till  the  first  bugle  blew. 

"Come  boys,  we  must  hurry  out  or  we'll  be  late," 
said  Mr.  Liton;  but  hardly  had  he  finished  the  sen- 
tence when  the  door  broke  open  and  the  inspiring 
figure  of  the  Colonel  kept  back  the  draught. 
"Do  you  know  that  it's  late?"  he  shouted. 
"It  is  not  late  yet — we  are  going  now,"  returned 
Mr.  Liton. 


120        A    BUNCH    OF    LITTLE    THIEVES 

Out  doors  the  autumn  night  was  cool,  calm  and 
very  dark.  The  sky  was  covered  with  myriads  of 
bright  stars  and  the  valleys  were  filled  with  shadows. 
The  boys  shrugged  their  shoulders,  thrust  their 
hands  into  their  pockets,  and  instinctively  started 
on  a  hop  and  run. 

One  boy  would  ring  the  front  door  bell,  as  soon 
as  they  reached  a  cottage,  and  announce  the  num- 
ber of  boys  returned,  and  the  boys  announced  would 
run  down  the  side  path  to  the  rear  of  the  cottage, 
where  they  belonged. 

"Strange,"  thought  Mr.  Liton,  "these  cottages 
were  erected  as  homes  for  these  boys,  yet  only  the 
rear  of  every  cottage  belongs  to  them — for  their 
use.  The  beautiful  entrance  in  front  they  never 
use." 

"Good  night,  Mr.  Liton,  thank  you,"  was  called 
out  at  each  cottage,  as  many  times  as  there  were 
boys  returned. 

"Where  is  George?"  demanded  Mrs.  Gallwin, 
when  they  arrived  at  her  cottage. 

"George  has  been  with  us  at  our  council  meet- 
ing; he  is  here  now." 

"This  cannot  happen  any  more,  I  won't  have  it. 
That's  all  there  is  to  it." 

"Since  you  talk  that  way,  Mrs,  Gallwin,  I  have 
nothing  to  say  to  you." 

"You  will  say  something  to-morrow,"  she  thun- 
dered back. 

Mr.  Liton  paid  no  more  attention  to  her,  but  con- 
tinued the  round,  explaining  to  the  remaining  num- 
ber of  boys  what  the  Milky  Way  was,  where  to  find 
the  Dipper,  and  a  number  of  other  things  that  proved 
him  to  be  a  very  wise  man,  in  their  opinions. 


A   BUNCH    OF   LITTLE    THIEVES         121 

The  last  boy  was  finally  taken  to  his  cottage  and 
Mr.  Liton,  alone,  turned  and  started  back  towards  the 
school.  Before  he  had  gone  many  steps,  he  was  met 
by  the  Colonel. 

•'Mr.  Liton,"  began  Colonel  Reilly,  "those  lights 
are  in  your  room,  ain't  they?" 

"Yes,  I  guess  they  are." 

"Weil,  they  shouldn't  be  left  on." 

"I'm  going  back  now,  I'll  turn  them  out." 

"Mr.  Liton,  do  you  know  them  boys  must  be 
home  by  the  first  bugle?" 

"I  know  all  that." 

"Y'didn't  this  evening." 

"I  will  see  that  we  get  out  before  the  first  bugle, 
but  you  must  give  them  to  me  in  time." 

"I  give  them  to  you  when  I  can." 

"That  doesn't  mean  anything.  You  gave  them  to 
me  this  evening  three  quarters  of  an  hour  later  than 
you  promised  to  give  them  to  me — we  have  an  hour 
and  a  half  altogether." 

"We'll  have  to  settle  that  some  other  way,"  he 
grunted,  and  turned  to  go.  "We  can't  bother  with 
that  club  business  altogether.  You  ain't  the  first  one 
that's  tried  it  here." 

Mr.  Liton  turned  out  the  lights  in  his  room  and 
in  tlie  hallway,  and  filled  that  hallway  with  the 
sound  of  his  lonely  steps  on  his  way  out. 

"Goin'  to  the  village?"  asked  Mr.  Grames,  the 
dining  room  man,  when  he  saw  Mr.  Liton  take  the 
path  down  the  valloy. 

"Yes,  I  am.    Are  you?" 

"Sure!    Let's  go  together,"  said  Mr.  Grames. 

"Good!     Going  for  a  walk?" 

"A  walk?   No,  I'm  going  for  a  drink  and  a  smoke. 


122        A    BUNCH    OF   LITTLE    THIEVES 

They  don't  give  you  a  chance  to  smoke   on  the 
grounds — I  don't  know  why." 

"It's  against  the  rules,  is  it?" 

"Yes,  but  most  of  us  don't  care  much  about  them 
rules,  believe  me.  We  fellers  work  on  the  princi- 
ple that  so  long  you're  not  caught  I  guess  it's  all 
right!    Hey!" 

"Have  you  been  here  long?" 

"Just  a  week,  but  I  know  them  institutions — I 
came  here  from  another  one.  They're  all  alike.  I 
got  into  a  row  with  the  principal  over  there  and  I 
chucked  up  the  job.  First  day  I  come  here,  I  got 
the  job.  That  there  superintendent  of  yourn  is  a 
foxy  feller — he's  a  down  right  smart  feller.  He  saw 
all  right  what  he  was  gettin'.  I  may  not  be  a  dude, 
but  for  teachin'  plumbin'  and  maldn'  kids  mind, 
there  ain't  many  like  myself.  Over  at  the  last  in- 
stitution I  worked,  I  did  all  their  plumbin'  for  'em 
and  they  were  down  right  sorry  to  see  me  go.  From 
the  first  down,  I  suppose  in  all  the  institutions  I 
worked  for  there  is  some  pipe  busted  or  other."  Here 
he  started  a  hideous  laughter  that  rang  through  the 
woods. 

"You  have  worked  in  several  institutions  then, 
have  you?" 

"This  is  the  fourth." 

"You  like  to  work  in  them?" 

"Like  to  work  in  them?"  He  stopped  to  look  at 
Mr.  Liton.  "Naw — guess  not.  I  wauldn't  be  here 
now,  if  I  could  help  it.  I  can  make  kids  mind,  but 
I  am  tired  of  'em.  Sometimes  I  half  murder  'em. 
You  got  to  watch  them  every  minute,  or  they'll  turn 
on  you.  My  hand  here  hurts  yet  from  a  whack  I 
gave  one  fellow  this  morning.    They  won't  back  talk 


A    BUNCH    OF   LITTLE    THIEVES        123 

me  much  when  they  get  to  know  me.  No,  I  wouldn't 
"a  come  here  either  makin'  them  little  thieves  scrub- 
bin'  floors  and  dishes — that  ain't  much  of  a  job  and 
hasn't  much  advancement  attached  to  it.  I  am  a 
plumber  by  trade,  and  he  promised  me  the  plumbin* 
on  the  place  and  to  teach  them  kids  plumbin'  at 
seventy-five  bucks  a  month.  He  isn't  goin'  to  keep 
me  waitin'  long  for  it  either." 

They  reached  a  saloon  near  the  village,  and  Mr. 
Liton  was  invited  to  have  a  drink. 

"No,  thank  you,  I'm  going  down  further,"  he 
insisted. 

He  had  hardly  finished  his  sentence,  when  a  boy 
dressed  in  the  institution  suit  issued  from  the  saloon 
carrying  what  seemed  to  be  a  large  beer  can  wrapped 
in  a  newspaper.  The  boy  made  for  the  woods  and 
was  lost. 

"See  that  fellow?  He's  the  hospital  boy.  John 
Downer'll  be  caught  some  day." 

"Who  is  John  Downer?" 

"Downer's  the  engineer  at  the  power  house.  He 
sends  this  hospital  boy  for  beer  at  night,  when  he's 
supposed  to  be  in  bed,  and  Colonel  Reilly  makes  be- 
lieve he  doesn't  know  it.  They  smoke  there  too,  when 
they  ain't  supposed  to.  Downer  and  that  Henglisti 
nurse  over  there.  That  ain't  right.  I  go  for  my 
drink  and  my  smoke  when  I  want  'em."* 

With  this,  he  entered  the  saloon,  and  the  discour- 
aged teacher  went  on  his  way  to  Abolt. 

He  wandered  about  the  single  street  a  few  mo- 
ments, had  a  little  ice  cream,  and  made  for  a  round- 
about pathway  to  lengthen  his  way  home.    When  he 


•The  practice  referred  to  Is  not  uncommon. 


124        A   BUNCH    OF    LITTLE   THIEVES 

reached  llie  dark  end  of  the  village  lie  felt  some  one 
walking  behind  him,  and  turned  half  way  about  to 
get  an  idea  of  what  kind  of  a  follower  it  might  be, 

'"Going  home,  Mr.  Liton?"  asked  a  woman's  voice. 

"Yes.  good  evening,  Miss  Brand,"  said  Mr.  Liton 
recognizing  her. 

"Good  evening.  Do  you  like  this  pathway,  too?" 
she  asked  fairly  beaming  in  the  darkness.  "I  just 
love  it,  especially  at  night." 

"Aren't  you  afraid?" 

"Oh,  no.  Nobody  wants  to  hurt  me.  Would 
you?" 

"I?    I  guess  not." 

"Oh,  we  never  can  tell  who  wants  to  hurt  us,  you 
know.    Our  best  friends  sometimes  do." 

"Yes,  taking  it  philosophically,  I  suppose  I  must 
agree  with  you." 

They  walked  on  for  a  short  distance  quietly,  then 
Miss  Brand  ventured  again,  "You  are  not  afraid  to 
walk  home  with  me  in  the  dark,  are  you?" 

"Afraid  of  what?" 

"Oh,  I  thought  you  might  be  conventional." 

"No,  I'm  not  conventional,"  he  answered,  smiling. 
"I  have  a  great  deal  of  faith  in  my  own  opinions  of 
right  and  wrong,  and  as  much  as  they  may  differ 
with  those  of  some  others,  I  usually  act  upon  them." 

"So  do  I.  I  am  afraid  of  nobody.  What  is  this, 
a  swamp?  Wouldn't  it  be  nice  if  we  got  lost  and 
had  to  stay  here  all  night?" 

"Do  you  think  it  would  be  so  very  nice?" 

"I  wouldn't  care.  I'm  just  that  kind,  I  wouldn't 
care  a  bit." 


A   BUNCH    OF    LITTLE   THIEVES         125 

It  was  a  great  relief  to  see  the  reformatory  lights ; 
and  when  he  finally  got  into  his  own  room  he  threw 
his  hat  down  upon  the  table  and  sighed,  "This  is  a 
great  place." 


CHAPTER  XI 

NEW   EFFECTS 

The  dawn  of  Friday  morning  forced  its  way 
through  a  heavy  moisture-laden  atmosphere,  and  the 
six  o'clock  bugle  came  in  fairly  dripping  with  rain. 
Dark  gray  clouds  gathered  in  the  valleys  and  shut 
out  the  view  on  either  side.  A  heavy  wind  blew, 
and  the  rain  beat  down  upon  the  golden  leaves  it 
tore  from  the  trees  on  the  roadsides  and  in  the  forest. 
Like  every  other  morning,  in  obedience  to  the  call 
of  the  bugle  boy,  the  boys  put  on  their  thin  canvas 
jackets,  pulled  their  canvas  caps  down  upon  their 
eyes,  and  formed  the  line  out  doors  in  the  rain.* 
Their  cottage  father  and  mother,  protected  by  rain 
coats  and  umbrellas,  stood  beside  them,  waiting  for 
the  next  bugle  call.  What  a  sight  to  see  the  groups 
pouring  into  the  main  roadway  from  each  cottage, 
all  backs  bent  and  every  coat  saturated.  Mr.  Liton 
looked  and  was  miserable. 

"I  am  really  ashamed  to  wear  this,"  he  thought 
putting  on  his  rain  coat,  then  prompted  by  a  second 
and  more  forcible  thought  he  pulled  it  off  again.  "No, 
I  will  not.  If  they  have  to  live  through  it,  I  shall, 
too." 

Hanging  it  up  again,  he  started  towards  the  flag- 
pole. The  air  was  very  cool,  and  the  rain  drops 
soon  penetrated  his  clothes,  but  he  felt  a  sort  of  re- 
lief when  he  passed  them.     "They,  standing  with 

*This  senseless  regulation  exists  in  many  reformatories. 


A   BUNCH    OF   LITTLE    THIEVES         127 

their  backs  bent,  shivering  in  the  wet  and  cold,  will 
not  envy  me  at  least," 

In  the  warmer  dining  room  the  air  was  stifling. 
The  smell  of  so  much  wet  clothes  was  very  unappe- 
tizing. Mr.  Liton  sat  at  the  table  without  touching 
the  proverbial  prunes,  the  disgusting  platter  of  fa- 
rina, over  full,  or  the  soggy  bread  and  butter,  and  bad 
eggs;  and  he  gazed.  The  stafT  was  served  by  boy 
waiters,  who  enhanced  their  professional  appear- 
ance by  hanging  dirty  towels  from  their  belts;  who 
were  more  anxious  about  what  the  staff  did  not 
eat  than  what  they  did  eat,  for  as  soon  as  one  cot- 
tage father  or  teacher  left  his  or  her  seat  some  boy 
waiter  would  dash  to  the  place  and  appropriate  what 
prunes,  egg,  or  coffee  cake,  when  it  was  served,  was 
left  untouched  or  half  eaten.  When  the  dining 
room  was  cleared,  they  uncovered  their  spoils,  car- 
ried them  to  their  tables  and  devoured  them  . 

Mr.  Liton  was  disgusted.  He  joined  the  rest  of 
the  teaching  force  and  all  ran  for  the  school  build- 
ing, to  minimize  the  effects  of  the  unceasing  rain. 
Boys  here  and  there,  through  the  mist,  ran  about 
the  grounds  with  bent  backs,  like  shadows. 

"Mr.  Krammer,"  said  Miss  Britter  to  him  later  in 
the  day,  "we  are  going  to  have  a  meeting  this  after- 
noon for  the  adoption  of  the  constitution  of  the  re- 
public Mr.  Liton  has  formed,  and  would  like  to  have 
you  present  to  hear  it  read  and  to  say  something 
to  the  boys  about  it." 

"Gladly.  You  send  a  boy  into  my  office  a  few 
minutes  before  you  want  me  there,  and  I  will  come." 

"This  is  to  be  a  repubUc,  the  purpose  of  which, 
according  to  your  own  wishes,  is  to  be  to  teach  the 
boys   the   value   and   meaning  of  self-government, 


128        A   BUNCH    OF    LITTLE    THIEVES 

Don't  you  think  it  rather  funny,  Mr.  Krammer,  to 
have  the  assembly  watched  by  officers  in  uniform 
at  such  a  meeting?" 

"Well,  that  can't  be  helped — we  can't  have  them 
run  away." 

"But  I  know  they  won't  run  away." 

"You  think  you  do,  but  I'm  very  much  afraid  you 
don't.  Wait  till  you  have  been  in  this  business  for 
twenty  years  as  I  have." 

"But,  Mr.  Krammer,  I  don't  think  it  is  fair  to  us, 
either.  We  are  in  charge  of  the  school.  We  are 
organizing  a  republic.  Why  should  we  have  to  call 
upon  cottage  fathers  to  act  as  police  and  help  us  do 
our  work?  If  we  are  strong  enough  or  good  enough 
to  take  care  of  classes  of  them  and  clubs  of  them, 
why  can't  we  take  charge  of  them  in  the  assembly? 
I  for  one  refuse  to  be  there  if  the  officers  are  there. 
I  don't  want  the  boys  to  feel  that  I  am  afraid  of 
them." 

Mr.  Krammer  became  very  uneasy  and  almost 
showed  his  anger;  realizing,  however,  the  import- 
ance of  controlling  those  feelings  he  turned  to  her 
with  a  slight  frown  and  said,  "If  you  wish  to  try  it 
this  afternoon,  you  may,  but  mark,  Miss  Britter,  if 
the  least  thing  goes  wrong  you  can  never  try  it 
again." 

"I  am  more  than  willing  to  take  the  risk." 

"All  right,  then.  But  think  it  over  before  you 
act  upon  it.  If  they  can't  be  kept  quiet  with  officers 
and  sticks  about,  they  surely  will  not  be  kept  quiet 
without  them.  You  cannot  make  angels  of  them  in 
a  week,  nor  in  a  year.  You  will  learn  that  with  more 
experience.  I  have  handled  a  good  many  boys  in  my 
days." 


A    BUNCH    OF   LITTLE    THIEVES         129 

"Would  you  please  ask  Mr.  Reilly  to  invite  the 
cottage  parents  as  guests?" 
"Certainly." 

By  noon  the  rainy  day  had  changed  into  a  gray 
windy  one,  and  before  it  was  time  to  assemble,  the 
sun  occasionally  peeped  out  and  cheered  everything 
up  a  bit,  touching  with  light  tlie  golden  hillsides. 

What  excitement!  The  officers,  denied  their  du- 
ties to  stand  guard  in  the  assembly  and  watch,  and 
discourage,  when  possible,  the  foolish  attempts  to 
make  angels  out  of  them,  embittered  as  they  were, 
seemed  overjoyed  and  hopeful,  smiling  and  whis- 
pering their  expectations.  "Half  the  boys  at  least 
will  run  away." 

Miss  Britter  visited  every  class  room  before  the 
meeting  was  to  be  held,  and  asked  the  boys  whether 
they  were  anxious  to  go  to  this  meeting.  And,  an- 
swered enthusiastically  in  the  affirmative,  she  said 
to  them,  "This  republic  is  to  give  you  the  chance  to 
govern  yourselves  like  decent  men.  Are  you  going 
to  show  us  that  you  can  govern  yourselves?  Are 
you  going  to  show  us  that  you  needn't  be  watched, 
that  you  know  enough  to  be  quiet  when  it  is  neces- 
sary to  be  quiet?  Do  you  want  Mr.  Liton,  who  is 
working  very  hard  to  arrange  all  kinds  of  interest- 
ing things  for  you — who  is  giving  up  all  of  his  time 
to  make  you  happier,  do  you  want  him  to  go  on  with 
his  work?  Do  you  want  to  have  the  magazine,  the 
photography  clfisscs,  and  the  walks  in  the  woods? 
Then  let  us  see  that  you  do  by  the  way  you  act  this 
afternoon.  Let  us  see  whether  you  aren't  sensible 
enongli  to  help  yourselves.  I  am  going  to  depend 
on  you  then.  To  show  you  that  you  are  going  to 
your  own  club  uioeting  for  your  own  good,  I  am 


130        A   BUNCH    OF    LITTLE    THIEVES 

going  to  abolish  the  'hip'  business  in  your  march- 
ing down.  You  may  march  out  quietly,  in  an  ordi- 
nary full  step  walk  and  do  the  same  below." 

The  boys  were  wild  with  excitement.  Something 
surely  was  happening  about  the  place.  A  happier 
time  was  surely  coming,  and  they  worshipped  Miss 
Britter  and  Mr.  Liton,  who  seemed  to  be  the  cause 
of  it  all. 

Never  before  did  they  march  down  so  quietly  and 
so  orderly.  Some  of  the  boys  shoved  out  their 
chests,  pressed  their  outstreched  arms  close  against 
their  sides,  to  make  sure  that  it  be  seen  how  anxi- 
ous they  were  to  do  what  was  right,  growing  red 
in  the  face  doing  it;  and  marched  down  on  tip-toes. 

They  were  soon  settled  quietly  in  the  assembly 
room,  surprised  and  greatly  honored  to  see  no  po- 
liceman about. 

The  representatives  proudly  took  the  seats  pro- 
vided for  them,  each  filled  with  the  importance  of 
being  a  representative  of  a  whole  cottage  or  a 
whole  class  room,  while  their  respective  fellows 
were  glad  to  see  the  particular  boy  they  voted  for 
given  a  seat  on  the  platform. 

Miss  Britter  spoke  first: 

"Boys,"  she  began,  "We  are  met  to-day  to  estab- 
lish a  republic.  That  is  we  are  determined  to  make 
ourselves  happier  and  stronger  in  mind  and  body. 
We  are  determined  to  have  more  fun,  learn  more, 
and  govern  ourselves.  We  are  to  make  laws,  agree- 
ments between  ourselves  and  those  who  work  with 
us,  for  the  good  of  everybody.  People  can  not  live 
together  without  coming  to  an  agreement  about 
things  that  they  may  or  may  not  do.  Two  men  go 
into  business  and  draw  up  certain  laws  that  each 


A    BUXGH    OF   LITTLE    THIEVES         131 

will  have  to  obey  for  the  good  of  the  establishment. 
There  are  many  things  we  want  to  do,  that  may 
make  trouble  for  others,  and  the  things  others  want 
to  do  may  make  trouble  for  us — make  us  unhappy. 
To  avoid  that,  we  draw  up  sets  of  laws  that  pro- 
hibit us  from  doing  things  that  will  interfere  with 
the  people  with  whom  we  have  to  live,  and  if  every- 
body lives  up  to  those  laws,  and  nothing  is  done 
that  is  harmful  to  anybody,  everybody  can  be 
happy." 

She  then  went  on  telling  them  what  interesting 
things  they  were  planning  for,  until  the  door  opened 
and  Mr.  Kranuner  came  in  and  took  his  seat,  a  sur- 
prised individual. 

She  went  on,  running  over  the  day's  programme 
very  rapidly,  and  announcing  that  Mr.  Staver,  a 
cottage  father,  had  brought  his  talking  machine 
and  some  very  beautiful  musical  records  for  their 
pleasure. 

Mr.  Stavor  placed  a  record  of  a  violin  solo  on  the 
machine,  and  the  concert  began. 

It  was  a  revelation  to  even  the  most  radical  and 
optimistic  believer  in  reformation  to  see  that  silent 
assembly  of  boys,  listening,  with  eyes  fixed  on  one 
[)oint,  or  lialf.  or  all,  closed.  One  little  fellow  came 
from  a  home  where  they  loved  music  and  had  heard 
this  very  solo,  and  it  brought  recollections  that  were 
vory  painful  to  him — lie  cried. 

Several  other  solos  were  played,  the  b<>\s  ap- 
plauding very  warmly,  and  their  attention  was  then 
(Urecled  to  the  real  purpose  of  the  meeting.  The 
secretary  of  the  council  arose  and  called  the  role  of 
representntives.  One  member  of  the  council  moved 
liiat  Mr.  Litoii  be  asl«.'d  to  read  the  constitution  tluil 


132        A   BUNCH    OF    LITTLE    THIEVES 

everybody  in  the  room  be  able  to  bear  it,  and  the  mo- 
tion was  carried. 

The  constitution  outlined  the  different  divisions 
of  government,  which  resembled  as  much  as  possi- 
ble that  of  the  government  of  the  United  States. 
The  preamble  declared  the  purpose  of  the  republic 
to  be — Self-Government.  The  executive  department 
was  to  consist  of  the  body  of  cottage  presidents. 
The  legislative  department  was  to  consist  of  one  rep- 
resentative from  each  cottage  and  each  class  room. 
This  body  was  to  be  called  the  "Council."  Aside 
from  creating  laws,  the  work  of  the  legislative  de- 
partment was  to  act  as  a  sort  of  judicial  body  to  try 
all  cases  of  boys  charged  with  working  against  the 
republic  or  neglecting  the  duties  it  imposed  upon 
them. 

There  were  to  be  two  committees.  A  literary 
committee  was  to  provide  literary  programmes  for 
festivals  and  meetings,  arrange  debates  and  promote 
the  possibilities  of  a  magazine,  and  when  such  a 
magazine  was  published,  get  material  for  it  from  the 
citizens  at  large.  An  athletic  committee  was  to  ar- 
range for  athletic  sports  for  the  physical  develop- 
ment of  all  the  citizens,  especially  those  who  are 
most  in  need  of  it. 

All  laws  made  by  the  legislature  must  be  first  en- 
dorsed by  the  executive  department,  then  submitted 
to  the  superintendent  for  liis  approval,  and  finally 
votf^d  upon  by  the  citizens. 

The  council  formally  submitted  the  constitu- 
tion to  the  executive  department,  which  body  voted 
for  it  unaminously,  and  then  submitted  it  to  Mr. 
Krammer  for  his  approval. 


A    BUNCH    OF    LITTLE    THIEVES         133 

Mr.  Krammer  said  that,  as  far  as  he  could  see  at 
the  time,  he  had  no  objection  to  it.  He  thought  it 
was  very  good  and  hoped  that  it  would  be  adopted 
and  respected.  He  told  the  boys  that  he  had  long 
hoped  for  such  a  republic  and  that  now  that  it  was 
about  to  be  realized,  he  was  very  happy. 

The  chairman  of  the  council  then  rose  and, 
offering  the  constitution  to  the  citizens  at  large,  re- 
quested those  who  were  in  favor  of  adopting  it  as 
it  stood  to  rise. 

Every  boy  was  on  his  feet,  immediately.  The 
constitution  was  unanimously  adopted,  and  the  by- 
laws were  promised  by  the  committee  that  was  to 
draw  them  up  for  the  following  Friday  afternoon 
meeting, 

Mr.  Krammer  left  the  room. 

Mr.  Liton  then  got  up  and  made  a  few  very  en- 
thusiastic remarks  on  the  work  accomplished,  and 
concluded  with  an  appeal  to  every  boy  to  write 
something  for  the  first  number  of  the  magazine, 
wliich  he  hoped  would  be  out  within  a  few  weeks. 

The  boys  were  then  left  in  charge  of  the  disap- 
pointed officers  who  had  been  sent  for,  and  he 
went  to  see  the  superintendent. 

"How  did  you  like  it,  Mr.  Krammer?" 

"Very  well,  indeed." 

"Mr.  Krammer,  I  have  come  to  tell  you  what  ex- 
periences I  had  in  trying  to  find  a  printer." 

"What  were  those  experiences?" 

"I  went  all  over  town.  All  but  one  wanted  for- 
ty dollars  each  month;  the  one  offered  to  turn  out 
a  very  beautiful  magazine  of  sixteen  pages  for 
twenty-five  dollars." 


134        A    BUNCH    OP    LITTLE   THIEVES 

"Impossible!     No  use  of  thinking  about  it." 

"How  much  did  you  think  it  would  cost?" 

"Oh,  I  thought  it  would  amount  to  about  ten 
dollars.  I  could  possibly  give  ten  dollars  out  of  my 
salary  for  such  a  purpose,  but  twenty-five  is  out  of 
the  question." 

"Suppose  we  make  up  the  rest  of  it,  would  you 
give  us  the  ten  dollars  each  month?" 

"Yes,  as  I  said,  I  will  do  that,  but  I  can't  possi- 
bly give  another  cent." 

"Some  of  the  boys  suggested  selling  them  to 
their  parents." 

"Oh,  no,  we  mustn't  do  that." 

"One  boy  suggested  that  they  all  give  up  their 
good  behavior  money." 

"Let's  see,  that  is  so.  They  get  ten  cents  a  month 
for  good  behavior — we  have  a  fund  for  that — and 
I  suppose  tliey  have  the  right  to  do  what  they  want 
with  what  they  earn  that  way.  It  amounts  to 
about  fifteen  dollars  a  month,  too.  Well,  if  they 
are  willing,  we  can  do  that." 

"Good,  we'll  put  it  to  a  vote  at  our  next  meet- 
ing." 

"I  guess  that's  satisfactory." 

Mr.  Liton  passed  out,  a  very  happy  man.  He 
hurried  to  Miss  Britter's  office  to  tell  her  the  good 
news,  and  started  for  his  own  room  to  plan  his  work 
for  the  following  week.  Mr.  Reilly  was  standing 
near  a  hall  window,  watching  a  cottage  father  out- 
doors, when  Mr.  Liton  was  about  to  enter  his  class 
room. 

"That's  a  mighty  big  piece  of  power  you  have 
taken  to  yourself,  Mr.  Liton,"  said  the  Colonel,  sar- 
castically. 


A   BUNCH    OF   LITTLE    THIEVES        135 

"I  don't  know  what  you  mean," 

"Well,  may  be  you  don't.  We'll  have  a  tougli 
proposition  here  if  you're  going  to  make  them  kids 
think  any  more  of  what  you  have  made  them  think 
already." 

"I  don't  know  what  you  are  referring  to,  and  if 
you  want  me  to  answer  you,  you  will  have  to  tell 
me  what  it  is." 

"Them  kids  think  that  no  officer,  even  I,  can  give 
them  a  report  now,  since  you  and  your  republic 
won't  let  any  one  do  that.  And  I'm  going  to  give 
a  couple  of  them  a  good  big  dose  to  wake  them  up." 

"Nonsense.  Our  Republic  made  no  such  ar- 
rangements, and  I  am  willing  to  say  that  no  boy 
was  ever  mistaken  on  that  point  to  such  an  extent." 

"You  are  ivilUng  to  say  it  all  right,  but  I  have 
proof  against  you,  and  there  are  several  cottage  par- 
ents to  witness  to  it." 

"I  see.  You  have  already  been  collecting  evi- 
dence and  are  expecting  a  trial.  However,  tell  me 
how  you  became  aware  of  this  idea." 

"I  didn't  have  to  do  any  collectin'  of  evidence; 
it  came  right  plump  to  me  and  will  come  to  anybody 
else  tliat  cares  to  find  out.  That  dictionary  fool  in 
your  class,  that  conceited  Ernest  Andree,  thinks 
he  can  come  around  and  tell  me  what  to  do,  since 
you  have  discovered  him  as  a  genius.  He  calls  Mr. 
Saunders  a  liar  because  he  knows  the  republic 
won't  let  him  get  a  report  for  back  talk." 

"Is  that  what  he  said,  or  it  is  your  interpreta- 
tion of  it?" 

"I'm  not  being  cross-examined  by  you  nor  by 
any  one  else.  I  fixed  him,  and  he'll  be  scrul)l)iir 
kitclicn  floors  for  a  month  or  so,  and  you  take  it 


136        A    BUNCH    OF    LITTLE    THIEVES 

from  me,  he'll  be  a  better  citizen  than  your  club 
will  ever  make  him." 

"I  want  you  to  remember,  Mr.  Reilly,  that  though 
I  wasn't  going  to  cross-examine  you,  some  of  the 
boys  will  be  cross-examined  for  good  reasons,  and 
I  for  one  won't  let  any  cottage  father  or  any  one 
else  for  that  matter,  conspire  against  that  republic 
without  proving  a  few  side  issues.  You  have  set 
yourselves  against  that  republic  when  you  ought  to 
work  for  it — we  are  all  working  for  the  benefit  of 
the  school.  I  want  to  work  with  you  and  not 
against  you.  I  don't  see  why  you  should  want  to 
work  against  me." 

"I  don't  want  to  work  against  the  republic  or 
you,  but  you  are  new  in  the  business,  and  think 
that  you  know  more  about  it  than  anybody  else. 
You  don't  know  that  it  has  been  tried  several  times 
before,  and  has  always  been  a  complete  failure  and 
will  be  this  time  too.  I'm  against  its  makin'  matters 
worse." 

"If  you  have  always  acted  as  you  people  act 
now,  I  don't  wonder  that  it  always  has  been  a  fail- 
ure, I  feel  that  you  are  all  against  this  republic 
because  of — .  Well,  the  reasons  are  more  famil- 
iar to  you  than  to  me.  Because  you  heard  that 
Ernest  is  considered  by  us  a  genius,  and  that  we  in- 
tend to  have  him  elected  as  editor  of  the  magazine; 
you  and  his  cottage  father,  Mr.  Saunders,  have  con- 
spired against  him,  and  he  is  now  scrubbing  floors 
because  he  knows  too  much." 

"You  are  dreaming  all  that  in  your  own  head. 
I  laugh  at  your  republic  because  you  think  it's  go- 
in'  to  amount  to  anything.  The  magazine  you  talk 
about — huh,  you  have  no  magazine  yet!" 


A    BUNCH    OF   LITTLE    THIEVES         137 

"You  leave  that  to  me."' 

"The  whole  trouble  with  you,  Ui\  Liton,"  began 
the  Colonel  somewhat  more  softly,  "is  that  you  don't 
know  much  about  these  angels  of  yours,  and  you're 
makin'  it  tougher  for  us." 

"I  am  making  it  tougher  for  you  because  you 
don't  treat  them  right  and  we  do,  and  they  respect 
us  more.     That's  the  trouble." 

"They'll  respect  you  another  week  or  so  and  then 
you'll  learn  a  thing  or  two." 

"That  is  possible,  if  you  keep  on  working 
against  us;  but  not  without  a  good  stiff  fight  on 
our  part,  let  us  assure  you." 

"You  don't  know  these  fellows,  that's  the  trou- 
ble with  you.  You  don't  know  how  they  steal. 
These  boys  here  are  the  slickest  thieves  you  ever 
saw.  If  you  knew  the  system  they  have  of  rob- 
bing the  storehouse  of  provisions  and  what  not, 
without  my  being  able  to  stop  it  with  all  my  watch- 
ing and  punishing!  Last  week  they  stole  the 
key  to  the  store  room  and  got  away  with  all  man- 
ner of  things,  and  all  of  us  watching.  After  vis- 
itor's day  I  can  expect  all  kinds  of  money  passed 
around,  and  some  of  those  angels  in  your  class  room 
are  the  slickest  thieves  of  all.  Do  you  see  that  Tif- 
ton  in  your  class  room?  Why  we  trusted  him  and 
had  him  watch  other  boys,  and  everybody  would 
have  sworn  to  his  honesty.  I  caught  liim  with  the 
goods  yesterday,  nnd  found  that  during  the  past 
year,  when  I  had  him  watch  at  the  gate  to  keep 
children  from  coming  in  with  visitors,  he  actually 
begged  from  most  of  liis  friends  coming  in,  and 
during  the  year  supplied  any  boy  that  wanted  to  run 
away  wilJi   carfare  to  the  city.     You   don't  know 


138        A    BUNCH    OF    LITTLE    THIEVES 

iliem,  I  tell  you.  They  are  nothing  but  a  bunch  of 
little  thieves,  every  one  of  them." 

Mr,  Liton  laughed  very  heartily,  to  the  exasper- 
ation of  the  Colonel,  "Don't  you  think  that  proves 
them  to  be  bright,  Mr.  Reilly?  But  look  here.  If 
those  boys  were  fed  decently  they  wouldn't  be  steal- 
ing in  -the  store  house.  If  they  were  not  treated 
as  some  of  our  friends  treat  them,  they  wouldn't 
want  to  run  away  and  wouldn't  have  to  steal  or  beg 
to  be  able  to  do  it.  I  think  they  are  very  bright, 
and  with  the  right  treatment  that  brightness  could 
make  good  men  of  them." 

The  Colonel  looked  at  him  as  if  he  were  crazy, 
then  without  saying  a  word,  turned  and  walked 
away. 

Mr.  Liton  fixed  up  his  class  room,  and  went 
to  look  for  his  friends,  whom  he  found  in  Miss 
Britter's  office. 

"Did  you  hear  what  happened  to  poor  Ernest?" 
Nida  asked  him  as  soon  as  he  entered  the  office. 

"I  heard  that  he  was  put  to  scrubbing  the  kitchen 
floor." 

"They  positively  hate  that  boy,"  said  Rolan, 
"I  have  seen  many  instances  of  that." 

"Does  he  give  them  the  dreaded  back  talk,  or 
what  is  the  matter?" 

"He  is  too  frank.  He  says  what  he  thinks,  re- 
gardless of  what  may  result.  He  is  extremely  pre- 
cocious. He  knows  more  than  most  of  his  teachers, 
and  so  much  more  than  his  cottage  parents  that 
they  dislike  him  for  it.  Mr.  Krammer  has  always 
kept  him  in  his  office  to  do  a  great  deal  of  his  office 
work,  which  he  can  do,  as  Mr.  Krammer  himself 
told  me,  better  than  either  Lapin  or  Miss  Trunch; 


A   BUNCH    OF   LITTLE    THIEVES         130 

now  they  Iirvc  siicceoded  in  raking  np  charges 
against  him  to  suit  Krammer,  and  to  spit(?  us,  have 
detailed  him  to  the  kitchen,  where  all  will  join 
hands  in  revenging  upon  him." 

"Lefs  go  for  a  walk." 

"I'm  good  for  a  long  one." 

"So  am  I.  Let's  go  to  Hilldale  in  our  round- 
about way,  and  have  dinner  there  this  evening." 

They  struck  the  path  and  hurried  down  at  break 
neck  speed,  soon  finding  themselves  in  the  heart 
of  the  autumn  worn  valley.  The  red  and  gold  and 
old  green  still  lit  up  the  neighborhood,  but  many 
trees  were  already  leafless,  and,  in  spite  of  the  sun- 
lit afternoon,  there  was  an  ominous  feeling  of  win- 
ter hovering  about  the  valley  and  hanging  down 
from  the  hills. 

"How  beautiful  it  is  here!" 

"It  is  the  most  beautiful  place  I  have  ever  seen," 
said  Nida,  "and  were  it  not  for  dining  room  and  oth- 
er conditions,  I  should  be  willing  to  live  and  die 
here.  To  tell  the  truth,  if  I  stay  here  much  longer 
I  shall  die,  willingly  or  not.  I  was  very  sick  again 
this  morning,  I  thought  surely,  I  was  going." 

"Why  don't  you  see  the  doctor  about  it?" 

"I  saw  several  of  them,  six  months  ago.  They 
told  me  that  the  country  was  much  better  for  me 
than  the  city,  that  I  must  drink  plenty  of  milk  and 
eat  many  eggs,  and  that  my  room  should  be  well 
heated  and  well  ventilated  in  the  winter  time. 
What's  the  use  of  hearing  all  that  over  again.  You 
can"t  do  any  more  than  listen  to  it.  And  if  you  note 
carefully,  you  will  find  that  it's  the  kind  of  advice 
that  is  given  to  consumptives." 


140        A   BUNCH    OF    LITTLE    THIEVES 

"Oh,  that  advice  holds  good  lor  n  iiiillion  dif- 
ferent illnesses," 

"Isn't  it  disgusting?"  said  Rolan.  "We  have  more 
than  thirty  cows  on  the  farm  and  we  can't  have  a 
glass  of  milk  a  day." 

"Don't  you  know  why?"  asked  Miss  Britter. 
"The  Superintendent,  who  has  none  hut  himself  and 
wife  to  look  after,  needs  eighteen  quarts  of  milk  a 
day." 

"What  on  earth  do  they  do  with  eighteen 
quarts?" 

"Take  off  the  cream  for  their  own  use,  and  fatten 
their  own  little  piggies  on  the  rest." 

"It's  all  a  joke  isn't  it?"  laughed  Mr.  Liton. 
"Thousands  of  dollars  donated  to  reform  boys  goes 
to  help  a  staff  of  otTicers  to  fat  jobs,  I  have  just 
tried  to  figure  out  the  workings  of  this  institution, 
and  it  is  laughable  to  see  what  a  farce  it  is.  The 
best  of  everything  for  the  officers  and  the  poorest 
of  everything  for  the  boys,  and  the  world  cries 
about  the  thousands  of  dollars  spent  on  reforma- 
tion, unsuccessfully." 

"Why  not?  The  world  gets  its  information 
from  the  superintendent's  annual  report,  which 
tells  how  much  is  being  done  for  these  boys — how 
wonderfully  ideal  the  institution  is  kept.  Some 
philanthropists  take  the  trouble  to  investigate. 
They  herald  their  coming,  and  the  place  is  fixed 
up  for  the  occasion,  boys  are  taken  out  of  the 
"coops"  and  hospital,  handcuffs  are  hidden,  the 
officers  forget  their  swearing  and  chewing  of 
tobacco,  or  smoking  against  the  rules,  and  the 
philanthropists  find  everything  as  represented  in 
the  annual  report,  and  donate  some  more  money; 


A   BUNCH    OF    LITTLE    THIEVES         141 

(hen  go  back  home  and  read  statistics,  which 
show  that  most  of  the  boys  come  back  to  the 
institution  time  after  time,  and  deduce,  quite  natur- 
ally that  the  boys  are  incorrigible — beyond  redemp- 
tion."' 

"Oh.  I\Ir.  Liton,"  went  on  Miss  Britter,  "I  had  a 
talk  with  Krammer  to-day  about  a  photography 
class." 

"\Miat  did  he  say?"' 

"The  usual,  'Oh,  no,  not  now,'  etc.,  but  I  got  the 
bdst  of  him.  I  argued  so  long  to  prove  to  him 
that  it  is  a  necessity  and  not  a  luxury  that  he  prom- 
ised that  when  Mr.  Landor  comes  on  Sunday  to  see 
the  parade  (Mr.  Landor  is  one  of  the  rich  members 
of  the  Board  of  Directors)  he  would  mention  it  to 
him,  and  if  he  was  willing  to  make  the  donation, 
Krammer  would  call  you  to  tell  him  why  you  think 
it  is  a  good  idea." 

"Good  for  you.  Ill  prove  it  to  him — most  con- 
clusively." 

Their  path  led  them  over  quaint  little  rustic 
bridges  and  over  a  very  high  hill,  and  brought  them 
back  again  to  Hilldale  when  the  street  lights  were 
being  lit. 

"When  I'm  out  like  this,"  said  Nida,  "I  feel 
fine." 

"Let's  go  in  here  and  have  a  good  meal,  and 
you'll  feel  still  finer." 

The  proprietor,  a  middle-aged  woman  with  well- 
curled  hair  and  an  exceptionally  well  painted  and 
powdered  face,  was  there,  and  in  her  endless  num- 
ber of  trips  from  the  cash  box  to  the  kitchen  win- 
dow, greeted  them  very  often  with  extremely  warm. 
smiles. 


142        A   BUNCH    OF    LITTLE    THIEVES 

The  coffee  sign  looked  as  cheerful  as  ever,  and 
the  coffee  it  involuntarily  praised  tasted  even  bet- 
ter. 

They  ate  a  great  deal  and  laughed  as  much. 

"Poor  Ernest,"  began  Miss  Britter  suddenly,  "we 
must  get  him  out  of  the  kitchen." 

"Anybody  that  makes  a  single  reference  to  the 
institution  or  the  boys  will  have  to  pay  a  fine  of 
ten  cents,"  said  Nida. 

"Good  idea.  We'll  all  become  maniacs  if  we 
keep  on." 

"And  move  into  padded  cells." 

After  going  into  details  as  to  what  each  would 
say  when  they  get  to  their  particular  padded  cell, 
they  started  for  home. 

On  their  way  home,  Miss  Britter  began  to  relate 
an  incident  that  had  taken  place  that  day  in  her 
ofTice,  and  was  immediately  stopped  and  the  ten 
cents  was  exacted  in  the  dark  and  they  had  to 
light  a  match  to  see  whether  the  coin  she  handed 
the  self-appointed  treasurer  was  a  ten  cent  piece. 
This  performance  took  place  several  times,  and  af- 
fected different  members  of  the  company,  and  they 
soon  found  themselves  on  an  unknown  road  with 
two  unoccupied  houses  visible.  Not  a  living  being 
was  about  to  inquire  of. 

"I'm  sure  that  this  is  the  hill,"  said  Miss  Brit- 
ter, pointing  to  one  on  the  right.  "Let's  make  for 
that." 

It  was  a  clear  night,  with  very  bright  stars,  and 
the  atmosphere  so  calm  that  sounds  of  voices  and 
of  a  barking  dog  came  floating  towards  them  from 
the  distance. 


A   BUNCH    OF    LITTLE    THIEVES         143 

When  they  reached  the  grounds  the  dormitory 
lights  had  long  been  put  out,  and  the  teachers  hav- 
ing gone  to  the  city  for  the  week  end,  the  place 
seemed  deserted.  With  the  exception  of  a  light  here 
and  there  in  some  cottage  mother's  room,  and  the 
moving  lantern  of  the  watchman,  the  institution 
was  in  darkness. 

They  retired  to  their  own  rooms,  and  almost 
simultaneously  these  were  lit  up,  giving  added  life 
to  the  outdoor  aspect  of  the  hill.  Then  at  ten  o'clock 
the  power  house  shut  down  upon  them,  and  the 
darkness  deepened.  Candle  lights  soon  made  their 
ghostly  appearance  to  wrangle  with  the  night;  but 
even  the  candle  lights,  one  by  one,  yielded,  and  the 
night  victorious,  settled  heavily  upon  the  hill  and 
the  valleys  on  either  side. 

Mr.  Liton  smothered  his  candle  and  fell  upon  his 
bed,  but  found  it  hard  to  sleep.  Several  times  he 
stole  up  to  the  window  and  peeped  out  over  the  end- 
less stretch  of  shadow,  upon  the  subdued  Milky  Way, 
or  towards  the  lifeless  dormitory  opposite  him. 

The  watchman  started  a  heavy  grinding  walk  to 
the  other  end  of  the  hill,  to  begin  another  round.  Mr. 
Liton  listened  to  him,  and  stationed  himself  once 
more  where  he  could  look  out  and  get  the  breeze 
upon  Ills  face. 

"A  boy  is  up  and  can't  sleep,"  thought  he,  for  he 
saw  a  white  figure  at  the  window  of  the  dormitory, 
some  two  liundred  feet  before  him. 

"Fellow  sufferer,"  he  went  on  thinking,  "I  wish 
he  could  come  over  here  and  talk  with  me.  I  guess 
it's  better  for  both  of  us,  though,  to  return  to  bed." 

But  the  white  figure  had  more  vital  reasons  for 
being  unable  to  sleep  than  he,  and  had  no  intention 


144        A    BUNCH    OF    LITTLE    THIEVES 

of  returning  to  bed.  The  nervous  head  went  way 
out  beyond  the  window  and  looked  from  left  to  right; 
then,  moved  by  a  determined  impulse,  stepped  upon 
the  window  sill,  grabbed  the  rope  he  had  made  of 
his  bed  sheet,  and  quickly  slid  down.  After  a  second 
and  hurried  look  about,  the  white  figure  dashed 
away  into  the  woods  and  was  lost. 

Mr.  Liton  was  dazed  for  a  moment.  He  fell  back 
upon  his  bed  and  tried  to  think — to  work  his  way 
out  of  a  nightmare — and  buried  his  head  in  his  pil- 
low. Before  his  closed  eyes  shivered  the  half  naked 
figure  of  a  child  struggling  through  the  terrors  of  a 
tragedy. 

A  sound  of  voices  and  the  rush  of  heavy  feet 
startled  him  again.  There  was  a  hurried  call  from 
one  man  to  another.  One  of  the  watchmen  had  dis- 
covered the  runaway's  rope,  the  Colonel  had  been 
awakened,  and  hastily  they  were  on  the  trail.  The 
Colonel  carried  a  rope,  and  the  other  a  lantern, 
and  they,  too,  dashed  into  the  woods,  for  it  was  there 
that  all  boys  took  shelter. 

Almost  an  hour  later  the  Colonel  returned  with 
his  rope  unused,  the  watchman's  lantern  still  burn- 
ing, and  himself  weary  and  worn  out.  There  were  a 
few  hasty  admonitions  hurled  at  the  watchman,  who 
took  them  quietly,  and  continued  on  his  rounds. 
Colonel  Reilly's  heavy  feet  ground  their  way  on  the 
pebbles,  thumped  a  number  of  times  on  cement  steps, 
and  the  sound  of  a  closing  door  left  t'  ^  night  to 
itself. 

The  little  white  figure  was  still  white  in  Mr. 
Liton's  restless  brain,  and  he  saw  it  run  and  stumble 
by  turns.  Coming  from  some  distance,  he  could  hear 
the  excited  barking  of  several  dogs,  and  his  heart 


A   BUNCH    OF   LITTLE    THIEVES         145 

beat  frightfully,  and  he  could  have  cried,  as  if  he, 
too,  were  a  slave  child  in  white,  alone  in  the  woods, 
attacked  by  all  the  childish  horrors  of  the  night. 

Several  times  that  night  he  returned  to  the  win- 
dow side  and  looked  out,  until  the  night  began  to 
fade,  and  almost  imperceptibly,  the  dawn  grew  gray 
upon  it. 

An  alarm  clock  went  off.  A  cottage  father  rose 
from  his  bed,  donned  his  bath  robe,  went  up  into  the 
dormitory  and  shook  a  sleepy  little  man.  The  sleepy 
little  man  rubbed  his  eyes,  jumped  off  his  bed,  quick- 
ly dressed,  clattered  down  the  wooden  stairway, 
opened  the  door  and  emerged  into  the  half  darkness 
of  the  morning,  with  a  horn  under  his  arm;  then 
turned  up  the  lapel  of  his  coat  to  keep  the  wind  from 
going  down  his  warm  back;  ran  to  the  flag-pole  and 
pulled  out  the  morning  call.  Then  followed  a  multi- 
tudinous clatter  of  little  feet  on  the  dormitory  floors 
and  the  institution  was  fully  awakened  into  tlie  rou- 
tine of  another  Saturday. 

Mr.  Liton  dressed  hurriedly  and  struck  out  for 
Mr.  Rolan's  cottage,  and  woke  him  up.  The  two 
then  started  for  an  early  morning  walk. 

"Miss  Britter  and  Miss  Cane  are  going  to  the  city 
to-day,  are  they  not?"  asked  Mr.  Liton,  after  they 
had  walked  several  miles,  and  he  had  described,  in 
detail,  every  incident  that  had  taken  place  the  night 
before. 

"Yes,  they  are  going  to  take  the  early  train,  too." 

"Do  you  suppose  they  might  want  to  see  us  about 
anything  before  they  go?" 

"I  don't  think  so.  They're  coming  back  as  soon 
as  the  courses  tiiey  are  taking  at  the  university  are 
over." 


146        A   BUNCH    OF    LITTLE    THIEVES 

"Well,  what  do  you  say  to  our  going  on  for  the 
entire  day?" 

"I  have  no  objections." 

"I  would  like  to  climb  up  there,"  said  Liton, 
pointing  to  the  western  hill  with  its  monastery.  "I 
want  to  see  what  sort  of  a  building  is  under  those 
towers  that  we  always  see  against  the  sky." 

"Oh,  it's  very  beautiful.  I  have  been  there 
several  times,"  answered  Rolan.  "It  is  an  old 
monastery,  I  think," 

"Rolan,"  began  Mr.  Liton,  while  they  were  mak- 
ing for  the  hill,  "do  you  know,  I  wish  I  had  a  school 
of  my  own.  I'm  very  much  afraid  that  there  isn't 
much  to  be  hoped  for  here.  It's  bad  from  one  end  to 
the  other — it's  a  farce,  pure  and  simple.  It  is  a 
make  believe  afTair,  stands  for  something  that  it  is 
not  at  all,  in  any  way." 

"And  the  worst  part  of  it,"  said  Rolan,  "is  that 
most  people  think  so  highly  of  it.  It  is  so  clean  and 
so  beautiful  in  appearance  that  everybody  thinks  it  is 
ideal.  I  have  heard  many  people  call  it  the  best 
institution  of  its  kind,  and  I  have  read  that  in  the 
newspapers." 

"Exactly!  That  is  just  why  I  think  it  is  hopeless. 
You  can  reform  boys,  but  you  can't  reform  men  so 
easily,  and  I  suppose  some  men,  because  of  some 
vices,  are  beyond  redemption." 

"Just  exactly  what  I  have  often  thought,"  cried 
Rolan,  "to  reform  these  boys,  one  would  first  have  to 
reform  the  officers." 

"And  not  only  that,  but  you  would  first  have  to 
reform  the  world  and  society.  How  few  people  un- 
derstand— hov/  few  have  real  sympathy  or  go  down 
to  the  bottom  of  things.    A  few,  moved  by  a  kind  of 


A    BUNCH    OF    LITTLE    THIEVES         147 

sentimental  sympathy  that  they  have  acquired  from 
articles  and  books,  rush  into  the  work,  fail,  as  they 
should,  and  come  back  to  tell  the  rest  of  the  world 
their  experiences;  and  the  world  becomes  discour- 
aged, blames  everything  on  human  nature,  and  falls 
back  a  step  or  two  in  the  struggle  upward.  Look  at 
old  man  Krammer.  I  can't  talk  two  words  with  him 
before  he  informs  me  that  he  has  had  twenty  years 
of  experience  in  the  business.  And  let  me  tell  you, 
the  world  respects  his  experience,  regardless  of  how 
many  leagues  he  may  have  traveled  in  the  darkness. 
I  don't  think  that  man  ever  understood  a  single  child 
in  his  life.  He  tells  me  his  own  boys  are  a  disap- 
pointment to  him — he  could  never  make  them  do  as 
he  wanted  them  to,  and  he  is  at  the  head  of  a  society 
that  has  in  its  control  a  multitude  of  children.  The 
very  fundamental  principles  of  reformation  are 
Greek  to  him. 

"He  has  not  learned  in  all  his  twenty  years  that 
you  can  neither  make  boys  do  what  you  think  is 
right,  nor  beg  them  to  do  so.  He  can  not  see  that 
every  child  is  guided  by  a  set  of  impressions  that 
certain  years,  of  a  certain  kind  of  experience,  have 
made ;  that  only  by  supplying  the  elements  of  a  new 
and  better  environment  that  will  make  a  boy  see  and 
feel  that  your  notions  are  right  and  that  his  own  are 
wrong,  and  tliaf  living  up  to  yours  he  will  be  hap- 
pier, is  reformation  possible.  If  living  uj)  to  your 
notions  he  will  not  be  happier,  then  there  is  some- 
thing wrong  witli  your  notions,  and  the  child  should 
not  be  blamed.  Society  takes  a  boy  that  was  led  by 
an  uncontrollable  amount  of  energy,  curiosity,  hun- 
ger, and  desire  into  a  mode  of  living  that  made  way 
for  his  siir])lus  energy  and  satisfied  his  hunger  and 


148        A   BUNCH   OF   LITTLE   THIEVES 

desire;  and  ties  him  down  to  an  institution  where 
there  is  Uttle  or  no  outlet  for  most  of  his  energy; 
where  curiosity  must  be  stifled,  and  hunger  and  de- 
sire go  partially  or  entirely  unsatisfied,  and  because 
of  his  failure  with  these  methods,  the  superintendent 
pronounces  the  boy  incorrigible,  and  the  world 
thinks  him  a  wise  man  who  speaks  from  experience. 
"Take  the  boy,  for  instance,  who  learned  to  steal 
or  gamble,  and  with  the  amount  he  either  stole  or 
won  found  it  possible  to  fly  about  on  trolley  cars,  to 
ride  on  boats  or  go  to  amusement  centers,  where  he 
could  flirt  with  the  girls;  to  moving  picture  shows, 
where  they  cater  to  all  his  potential  sensuality  and 
develop  it;  who  finds  in  his  vices  a  satisfaction  for 
all  the  desires  that  his  environment  has  created  in 
him — imagine  telling  that  boy  about  virtue.  What 
represents  virtue  in  his  mind?  The  institution  de- 
nies him  all  the  pleasure  he  has  had,  immoral  as 
they  may  have  been;  harnesses  him  up  in  a  lot  of 
meaningless  rules;  gives  him  half  as  much  as  he 
desires  to  eat,  and  makes  him  work  at  things  he  does 
not  like  to  do.  In  short,  hard  as  it  may  be  to  say 
it,  for  all  his  grandeur,  his  delight  and  his  sensuality, 
he  is  forced  into  a  cold,  lifeless,  enslaved,  brutal  en- 
vironment, and  told  that  that  means  virtue,  and  is 
then  asked  to  be  virtuous.  Could  anything  iDe  more 
])ainfully  ridiculous?  That  is  what  is  called  refor- 
mation, and  because  his  very  soul  rebels  against  it, 
because  he  will  not  submit  to  it,  he  is  considered 
incorrigible,  and  is  despised.  And  when  his  revolt 
expresses  itself  in  crimes  that  affect  us,  we  put  him 
in  irons  and  main  and  cripple  him  for  life,  and  feel 
justified  in  doing  so," 


A    BUNCH    OF   LITTLE   THIEVES        149 

"But  M-hal  \\ill  satisfy  all  those  desires  or  devel- 
oped sensuality?  Surely  you  couldn't  create  such 
conditions  here.  Just  a  minute!  I  am  asking  this 
from  the  point  of  view  of  some  of  our  friends  at 
Abolt.  I  want  to  know  how  you  would  answer  that 
— I  feel  what  you  say,  but  I  don't  think  I  could  an- 
swer that  question." 

"If  I  thought  that  the  satisfaction  of  his  desires 
really  constituted  the  highest  form  of  pleasure,  I 
should  say  yes — give  him  such  a  condition  here,  or, 
rather,  let  him  alone  where  he  is;  but  I  know  at 
heart  that  a  certain  number  of  things  that  I  have  ex- 
perienced mean  infinitely  more  pleasure  and  happi- 
ness to  me  and  those  about  me,  and  I  should  set 
about  to  make  him  get  my  experience  as  uncon- 
sciously and  unforced  as  I  got  mine.  1  can  get  much 
more  pleasure  from  creating  things.  I  can  get  much 
more  pleasure  from  literature,  from  music,  from 
the  woods  and  the  roads.  I  am  confident  that  by 
making  him  experience  my  experiences  he  will  wake 
up  some  day  and  find  that  he  feels  as  I  do,  and  will 
think  that  he  himself  has  figured  matters  out  and 
concluded  that  way.  I  should  do  away  with  the 
wretched  slave  rules;  I  would  take  him  out  of  the 
soul-destroying  military  line  and  military  march; 
I  should  give  him  all  the  freedom  that  I  could  possi- 
bly give  him  without  his  getting  into  trouble.  I 
should  show  him  that  rule  and  law  are  merely  an 
agreement  between  people  for  the  good  of  all,  and 
would  allow  him  to  be  a  party  to  all  his  contracts. 
I  would  teach  him  to  make  things,  and  let  those 
things  be  the  things  that  he  wants  to  have  and  use; 
I  would  take  him  out  into  the  woods  and  let  him 
run  and  play  until  he  is  exhausted;  I  would  let  him 


150        A   BUNCH    OF   LITTLE   THIEVES 

hear  his  street  or  moving  picture  music  if  he  agrees 
to  hear  my  kind  with  me,  and  I  am  confident  that, 
my  kind  being  the  better,  he  will  prefer  my  kind 
in  time.    The  same  is  true  of  literature." 

"I  would  show  him  that  my  kind  of  freedom, 
gotten  by  working  at  the  kind  of  things  I  like  to  do, 
is  infinitely  better  than  his  kind,  where  he  makes  so 
many  other  people  unhappy,  and  is  always  afraid 
of  the  policeman.  Surely  it  won't  take  him  long  to 
realize  that.  He  would  rather  earn  enough  to  make 
him  happy  than  steal  it  for  that  purpose.  The  idea 
of  making  a  twelve-hour-day  plumber,  mussing  with 
filthy  pipes  and  sewers,  of  a  boy  who  has  learned 
the  meaning  of  freedom  and  pleasure.  What  mil- 
lionaire will  give  up  his  automobile  for  a  cramped 
position  in  a  sewer  hole  in  the  ground?" 

"Give  him  to  me.  Let  me  put  him  into  a  world 
that  gives  him  the  opportunity  of  exercising  his  en- 
ergy and  his  ingenuity;  let  him  taste  the  joy  of  mak- 
ing things,  of  being  a  somebody  of  ability  and  worth, 
and  he  will  be  reformed.  No,  reformed  is  a  bad 
word.  We,  society,  will  then  have  atoned  for  our 
abuses  upon  his  potentiality." 

They  had  already  climbed  up  the  steep  hill,  and 
Liton  stopped,  almost  breathless,  and  gazed. 

Towards  the  left  their  path  continued  winding 
around  large  tree  trunks  and  their  extended  roots, 
and  leading  to  an  old  deserted  monastery,  whose 
dark,  gloomy  windows  were  stopped  on  one  side  by 
half  broken  shutters,  and  nailed  up  with  unpainted 
pine  boards  on  the  other.  Most  of  the  building  was 
covered  with  living  red  and  yellow  colored  vino 
leaves,  which  obliterated  the  corners  and  sharp  edges 
of  the  entire  body  of  the  building,  but,  unable  to 


A   BUNCH    OF   LITTLE   THIEVES        151 

reach  the  two  towers  above,  took  the  semblance  of  a 
human  figure  in  suppUcation. 

Tall,  massive,  wooden  columns  struggled  upward 
from  their  bases,  hidden  by  overgrown  ugly  weeds ; 
and,  formed  a  porch,  where  a  few  old  broken  chairs 
could  still  be  seen  strewn  upon  its  floor  like  wreck- 
age on  a  sea,  telling  of  ascetic  monks  who,  weary 
with  their  own  solitude,  would  sit  and  gaze  down 
into  the  valley  of  the  living. 

They  struggled  through  the  weeds  and  vines,  in 
the  hope  that  some  one  window  would  open  up  and 
give  them  a  chance  to  look  into  the  interior  that 
seemed  to  have  been  occupied  by  death  so  long. 

"My,  but  I'd  like  to  own  this.  What  a  capital 
reform  school  it  would  make." 

"Kind  of  gloomy,  isn't  it?"  suggested  Rolan. 
"It's  gloomy  now,  but! — Give  me  a  dozen  boys 
and  a  month,  and  wo  will  tear  open  these  windows 
and  doors,  destroy  these  ugly  weeds,  and  fill  the 
place  with  life  again.  Think  of  flowers  about  this 
place,  and  little  gravel  walks." 

"A  coat  of  paint,  and  large  windows  in  those 
towers." 

"It  would  be  great.    Rolan,  let's  get  it." 
"All  right;  it's  for  sale.    Have  you  the  money?" 
"No,  I  haven't — but  we  can  get  it." 
"I  will  go  with  you  any  time  you  call  me." 
Reluctantly  they  left  the  place.     Every  inch  of 
ground  had  been  covered  and  examined,  and  every 
one  of  the  adjacent  small  buildings  was  given  a 
purpose.     One  would  make  a  good  manual-training 
shop,  another  a  chicken  house,  and  the  third  a  better 
barn  than  it  was.     One  excavation  made  a  trifle 
larger,  would  make  a  good  swimming  pool  in  sum- 


152        A    BUNCH    OF   LITTLE   THIEVES 

mer  and  a  skating  rink  in  winter,  A  grove  towards 
the  left  would  make  a  splendid  athletic  field.  On 
their  way  down  they  opened  the  shutters  on  the  win- 
dows in  imagination,  and  conceived  the  large  halls 
within — one  large  room  was  to  be  a  music  room,  an- 
other a  studio.  One  room  was  to  be  the  play  room — 
it  had  a  large  fireplace,  and  they  could  already  see 
the  flames  within  and  the  boys  encircling  it.  The 
rest  of  the  rooms  were  to  be  school  rooms  and  sleep- 
ing rooms.  The  towers  were  to  be  turned  into  obser- 
vatories, with  inexpensive  telescopes  where  boys 
could  gaze  at  the  stars  and  moon — could  anything 
more  exciting  be  offered  to  boys ! 

It  was  late  in  the  afternoon  when  they  reached 
Hilldale.  They  made  for  the  restaurant  and  ordered 
a  heavy  meal,  and  by  the  time  they  reached  the  old 
house  in  the  valley,  on  their  way  home,  it  was  eight 
o'clock.  The  conversation  stopped  and  each  strained 
his  ears  to  hear  "Taps"  send  the  boys  to  bed. 

"There  it  goes,"  said  Liton. 

"You  know,  I  don't  think  I  shall  ever  forget  that 
boy's  "taps."  So  much  feeling  in  it.  How  sweetly 
it  is  drawn  out!  How  it  rises  in  such  a  majestic 
crescendo,  and  finally  dies  away  so  softly — it  moves 
me." 

Half  an  hour  later  they  were  traveling  the  gravel 
walks  from  cottage  to  cottage,  looking  for  Miss  Brit- 
ter  and  Miss  Cane. 

"They  must  be  at  Mr.  Staver's  cottage,"  said  Mr. 
Rolan.  "We  used  to  go  there  every  other  night  to 
listen  to  his  phonograph.  He  has  some  very  good 
records  and  is  a  very  musical  man  himself." 

Just  where  they  were.  The  machine  was  on  one 
of  the  long  tables  in  the  sitting  room,  and  Mr.  Staver 


A    BUNCH    OF   LITTLE   THIEVES         153 

stood  by,  manipulating  it.  The  two  men  walked  in 
quietly,  for  a  great  prima  donna  was  singing,  and 
they  took  their  seats,  merely  having  motioned  their 
greetings  to  Mr.  Staver  and  his  guests. 

Miss  Britter  was  seated  in  a  rocker,  with  her  eyes 
towards  the  unused  fireplace,  and  Nida  was  stretched 
on  one  of  the  benches  near  her,  in  a  sleeping  posi- 
tion. On  the  tables  lay  heaps  of  books  and  scattered 
dominoes  that  the  boys  had  just  used. 

"You  should  have  come  an  hour  earlier,"  said 
Miss  Britter,  when  the  prima  donna  had  finished  her 
performance. 

'Why?" 

"Mr.  Staver's  boys  were  all  down  here,  and  we 
played  with  them.  They  were  delighted.  We  told 
them  all  kinds  of  stories,  and  Mr.  Staver  played  the 
machine  for  them.  You  should  have  heard  the  warm 
good-night  we  got.  Every  one  of  the  thirty-two  boys 
liad  to  be  answered  individually." 

"I'm  sorry  you  people  were  not  with  us.  We  saw 
some  wonderful  things  to-day." 

"What  did  you  see?"  asked  Nida,  sitting  up. 

"The  old  monastery,"  said  Rolan. 

"That  may  be  wonderful — yes,  I  guess  it  is  won- 
derful, but  I  think  I  have  seen  wonders  as  great." 

"Oh,  yes,  quite  possible,  I  was  not  thinking  of 
the  place  as  it  is  now — I  thought  of  its  potential 
wonders." 

"Some  more  plans?" 

"Exactly." 

"What  are  they?" 

Mr.  Liton  hesitated. 

"He's  going  to  turn  it  into  an  ideal  reformatory," 
said  Rolan. 


154        A   BUNCH    OF   LITTLE    THIEVES 

"Give  us  jobs?" 

"Certainly,  couldn't  make  it  go  without  you." 

"Give  me  one,  too?"  asked  Mr.  Staver. 

"If  you  bring  that  machine  along." 

"I  go  nowhere  without  it.  It  has  come  to  me  by 
way  of  consolation.  I  always  wanted  to  be  a  great 
violinist  when  a  boy,  but  I  never  had  the  opportunity 
to  study  much.  I  studied  a  few  years  and  had  to 
give  it  up.  This  takes  the  place  of  my  poor  unreal- 
ized longing.  I  can  stand  here  and  play  anything  I 
want." 

"How's  your  wife?"  asked  Rolan,  after  a  few 
minutes. 

"She  isn't  any  better.  I'm  afraid  we'll  have  to 
leave  this  place." 

Mr.  Staver  placed  another  record  on  the  machine, 
a  violin  solo  by  one  of  the  greatest  players  of  the  day; 
and  the  Spanish  melodies,  which  he  played,  poured 
out  of  the  wooden  horn  and  filled  the  room  with 
melancholy  beauty.  Mr.  Staver  stood  in  his  place 
by  the  side  of  the  machine,  and  smiled  with  emotion 
as  each  sweet  little  melody  ended.  Mr.  Rolan  folded 
his  arms  and  stared  out  of  the  window.  Mr.  Liton 
clasped  his  hands  and  gazed  on  the  portrait  of  Lin- 
coln that  looked  down  from  over  the  fireplace.  Miss 
Britter  continued  her  gaze  on  the  unburnt  wood  be- 
tv/een  the  fire  irons;  while  Nida,  stretched  upon  her 
bench  again,  buried  her  face  in  her  arms. 

Number  after  number  was  played,  and  many  re- 
ceived several  encores,  until  suddenly,  in  the  midst 
of  Massenet's  Elegy,  the  lights  went  out.  Mr.  Staver 
had  a  candle  ready,  for  this  happened  at  all  his  con- 
certs, and  in  this  flickering  light  the  concert  was 
concluded. 


CHAPTER  XII 

REFUGEES 

Michael  Roate  had  rim  away,  and  a  general  ex- 
citement pervaded  the  atmosphere  of  the  institution. 
Michael  had  been  abused,  and  Mr.  Krammer  wor- 
ried. Mr.  Reilly  had  been  admonished,  and  he  in 
turn  admonished  the  cottage  father  and  almost  got 
into  a  fight  with  him  over  it.  The  farmer  was  ordered 
to  hitch  up  a  horse  and  buggy  and  follow  the  refu- 
gee. Not  only  was  the  one  boy  gone,  but  after  one 
boy  escaped  there  followed  a  general  desire  to  get 
away,  and  they  expected  a  few  others  to  attempt  to 
follow  him. 

All  day  Saturday  there  had  been  continuous  run- 
ning about.  Everybody  seemed  busy,  but  Michael 
was  not  found. 

Sunday  morning,  it  was  understood,  special  visi- 
tors were  to  come.  The  dining  room  was  to  be  dec- 
orated, the  tables  to  receive  new  table  cloths,  the  boys 
to  receive  and  wear  their  new  winter  shoes,  the  cot- 
tages were  to  be  made  scrupulously  clean  from  top  to 
bottom,  and  the  little  fellows  slaved  at  the  work. 
The  little  prisoners  were  to  be  taken  down  from  their 
coops  and  the  handcuffs  that  had  been  hanging  on 
to  their  limbs  were  to  be  hidden.  The  boys  in  the 
hospital  were  energetically  encouraged  to  join  their 
friends  in  their  cottages,  and  to  vacate  the  sick 
rooms. 

Not  a  grown-up  touched  broom  or  mop  or  rag. 
Every  window  had  a  boy  sitting  upon  it,  whether 
on  the  first  or  third  story,  scrubbing  with  soap  and 


156        A   BUNCH    OF   UTTLE   THIEVES 

water  and  rag.  Every  set  of  stairways,  every  flour, 
and  every  bit  of  woodwork  was  scrubbed  by  wet 
chapped  hands,  and  in  the  process  some  boys  were 
kicked,  some  slapped,  and  all  ordered  about  uncivil- 
ly.    They  grumbled,  glanced  sidewise,  and  hated.* 

But  when  Sunday  came  every  officer  beamed  in 
his  new  uniform,  and  the  place  in  general  sparkled. 
Everything  seemed  clean  and  new  and  happy,  but 
the  boys'  faces;  but  visitors  got  to  know  that  those 
faces  were  faces  of  moral  degenerates,  and  were 
quite  satisfied.  "They  will  either  change,  or  else — 
it  can't  be  helped." 

Miss  Britter  made  sure  that  she  was  not  far  from 
the  office  during  any  part  of  the  morning,  for  rea- 
sons of  her  own,  and  she  informed  Mr.  Liton  that  it 
would  be  well  if  he  remain  in  his  room. 

"You  see,"  she  said,  "I  know  Mr.  Landor  well,  and 
will  make  myself  visible,  so  that  he  can  give  me  his 
hearty  hand-shake,  and  I  can  start  a  conversation 
on  photography  and  can  call  you.  If  we  leave  it  to 
Krammer,  he  will  forget  all  about  it  a  few  times,  you 
know." 

And  so  it  happened.  Miss  Britter,  from  her  office 
window,  saw  Mr.  Landor  come  upon  the  grounds  in 
his  automobile  and  whirl  up  to  the  school  building. 
She  made  it  her  business  to  walk  out  just  in  time, 
and  consequently  met  Mr.  Landor,  who  had  always 
taken  a  lively  interest  in  her  work.  A  conversation 
was  started,  and  Mr.  Liton  was  soon  called  for,  who 
explained  very  enthusiastically  the  many  possible 
elTects  of  teaching  photography. 


♦That  this  picture  is  strictly  true  will  be  recognized  by- 
all  employees  in  reformatories. 


A   BUNCH    OF   LITTLE   THIEVES        157 

"How  much  do  you  think  it  would  take?"  he 
finally  wanted  to  know, 

"I  have  figured  that  out  very  carefully,"  answered 
Mr.  Liton,  causing  him  to  smile,  "and  I  find  that  if 
I  am  to  have  instruments  and  materials  enough  to 
put  a  dozen  boys  to  work  at  a  time,  I  must  have  at 
least  two  hundred  dollars." 

"All  right,  Mr.  Liton,  you  may  have  that.  Mr. 
Krammer  can  order  whatever  you  need  and  I  \y\]\ 
pay  for  it." 

jNIr.  Landor  then  went  into  the  office  and  told  Mr. 
Krammer  what  he  had  promised  to  do,  and  found 
him  very  thankful  indeed,  but  unable  to  withhold 
an  expression  of  his  feelings  of  surprise. 

Many  other  important  visitors  soon  arrived,  and 
the  school  was  surrounded  by  automobiles,  big  and 
little,  the  big  ones  representing  the  many-thousand- 
dollar  philanthropists  and  the  little  ones  the  few- 
thousand-dollar  ones;  but  all  were  equally  interested, 
and  when  the  bugle  called,  rushed  out  upon  the  lawn 
to  watch  their  boys  drill  for  their  pleasure. 

Nothing  unusual  transpired.  The  band  played. 
From  every  cottage  boys  dressed  in  costly  uniforms 
and  carrying  guns,  poured  into  the  main  roadway, 
and  marched  towards  the  flag-pole.  The  Colonel 
was  in  his  element,  and  his  voice  shook  the  very  in- 
sitution,  as  it  sang  out  over  the  hill  and  echoed  in 
the  valleys.  Boys  marched  and  drilled  with  heavy 
guns.  Some  thought  it  exciting  and  many  worried 
over  it.  The  visitors  applauded,  and  marching  was 
resumed.  The  visitors  grew  weary  and  re-entered 
the  school  building.  The  boys  continued  marching, 
riottage  One  was  at  tlie  extreme  end  of  the  walk  and 
near  the  path  Michael  liad  taken  two  nights  before. 


158        A   BUNCH    OF    LITTLE    THIEVES 

They  were  ordered  to  halt,  while  every  boy's  atten- 
tion was  directed  to  where  at  a  distance  the  Colonel 
stood  and  instructed.  A  foolish  impulse  possessed 
Dick  Kennen,  and  he  pinched  Skinny  Ludwig  in  the 
arm.  Skinny  understood  what  was  wanted  and  the 
two  sneaked  away,  right  into  the  woods.  Strange 
that  the  Colonel  should  have  seen  it.  He  ordered 
his  battalion  to  face  about,  and  half  an  hour  later, 
when  each  cottage  was  on  its  way  home  he  followed 
the  trail  to  the  woods.  A  cottage  father  went  with 
him. 

For  over  an  hour  they  went  on  and  retraced  their 
steps  by  turns,  and  suddenly  came  upon  them. 

Dick  thought  that  his  escape  had  been  undiscov- 
ered, and  he  congratulated  himself  hastily.  They 
were  standing  very  near  to  the  woods,  and  surely  the 
busy  Colonel  could  not  have  seen  them.  The  boys, 
he  knew,  would  not  "snitch"  on  them.  But,  as  luck 
would  have  it,  just  when  they  were  beginning  to  feel 
safer.  Skinny  tripped  upon  a  vine  and  fell  upon  a 
very  sharp  stone  that  cut  right  through  stocking  and 
skin  to  the  very  bone.  Dick  could  have  cried,  but 
"what  good  will  cryin'  do?"  he  figured  out,  and  pre- 
vailed upon  poor  Skinny  to  cry  as  softly  as  he  could, 
because  "somebody  might  be  after  us."  He  half 
dragged  and  half  carried  him  to  some  underbrush, 
where  he  attempted  to  treat  the  wound. 

"Can  you  walk  all  right  if  I  tie  it  up  with  this 
handkerchief?" 

"Maybe." 

Dick  pulled  out  his  handkerchief.  It  was  not  very 
clean  and  he  was  afraid  to  put  it  on  the  wound,  for 
he  had  heard  that  you  can  get  blood  poisoning  in 
that  way.     A  multitude  of  thoughts  came  through 


A   BUNCH    OF    LITTLE    THIEVES         159 

his  mind.  If  Slvinny  got  blood  poisoned,  they  would 
both  be  caught,  and  Skinny  might  even  die.  Per- 
haps it  would  be  better  to  go  back  where  they  could 
put  something  on  his  wound,  or  may  be  it  would  be 
better  if  Skinny  crawled  back  and  let  him  go  on,  for 
they'd  surely  beat  him;  they'd  be  afraid  to  hurt 
Skinny. 

These  thoughts  he  made  known  to  Skinny,  and 
poor  Skinny,  with  a  half  sobbing  voice,  agreed  with 
him.  "They  won't  whip  me  for  it,  but  they  will  whip 
you,  I  can  crawl  back;  it  isn't  far.  You  run  on 
quick," 

Dick,  with  tears  in  his  eyes,  bade  farewell  to  his 
companion,  and  made  a  dash  into  the  woods.  Then 
it  came  upon  him,  "What  if  some  one  found  Skinny 
and  hurt  him — what  if  Skinny  can't  crawl  back?" 
He  would  go  back,  help  Skinny  on  till  they  came  to 
a  farmer.  If  they  promised  to  work  for  the  farmer, 
he  would  help  them.  And  so  he  retraced  his  hasty 
steps  and  fell  into  the  arms  of  the  Colonel. 

The  Colonel  selected  a  spot  from  where  he  could 
see  the  automobiles,  and  sat  down  with  his  captives 
to  wait  until  those  automobiles  would  drive  away, 

"Just  wait  till  you  get  back,"  Colonel  Reilly  ad- 
dressed himself  to  Dick,  "You  will  get  all  you  were 
looking  for,  and  a  good  bit  besides,  take  that  from 
me.  You  will  never  do  any  runnin'  any  more.  We'll 
fix  you  so  you  won't  be  able  to  stand  or  sit  for  i\ 
week — you  will  do  no  more  runnin'  away,  remember 
that." 

Dick  was  in  terror.  What  shall  he  do?  He  might 
run  now — he  could  run  faster  than  the  Colonel — 
and  he  could  get  under  the  small  trees  quicker  than 
tie,    The  opportiinily  came,    The  Colonel  decided  to 


160        A   BUNCH    OF   LITTLE   THIEVES 

return  where  he  might  be  wanted,  and  left  his  cap- 
tives in  charge  of  Mr.  Saunders.  Mr.  Saunders  was 
busy  telUng  Skinny  what  might  happen  to  him,  and 
fixing  his  pipe  for  a  smoke. 

This  was  the  only  chance  for  his  Ufe,  Dicli  knew, 
and,  getting  up  quickly  with  the  aid  of  his  hands,  he 
struck  for  the  woods  once  more,  and  ran  and  crawled 
for  dear  life. 

Mr.  Saunders  dropped  his  pipe  on  a  stone  and 
made  after  him.  It  was  bad  enough  to  run  on  the 
open  path,  but  through  the  vines  and  underbrush  it 
was  almost  impossible.  Mr.  Saunders  puffed  away 
after  him  under  and  against  tree  and  shrub  until 
finally  he  landed  him,  tripped  in  the  meshes  of  a 
wild  vine.  Mr.  Saunders  was  bruised  on  face  and 
hands  and  out  of  breath,  and  like  all  animals  in 
such  a  condition,  his  temper  had  the  best  of  him. 
His  large  hand  sunk  down  into  the  mass  in  the  vine 
and  closed  tightly  on  Dick's  neck,  and  pulled  him  up 
and  out  with  increasing  maddened  strength.  He 
beat  and  kicked  and  pulled,  and  poor  Dick  yelled 
and  begged  for  mercy. 

They  returned  to  where  Skinny  sat  and  cried 
as  if  he,  too,  had  been  kicked  and  beaten.  His  wound 
did  not  pain  him  any  more,  and  he  was  ready  to 
limp  home.  Regretting  the  moment  and  the  im- 
pulse that  started  Michael  away,  and  them  after  him, 
they  walked  and  limped  back,  sorry  looking  refu- 
gees, Dick  crying  and  talking  by  turns,  while  Saund- 
ers held  him  tightly  by  the  neck. 

"You'll  be  sorry  for  this  all  right.  Yes,  you  kicked 
me  and  I'll  be  sick,  and  if  I  die  they'll  hang  you.  I 
hope  I  do  die,"  he  sobbed,  and  rubbed  his  eyes. 


A   BUNCH    OF   LITTLE   THIEVES        161 

It  was  no  ordinary  kick,  one  of  the  many  that 
he  received,  and  the  pain  that  resulted  from  it  grew 
heavier  and  more  unbearable  as  they  walked  along, 
and  his  cries  grew  correspondingly  louder,  and  be- 
fore they  reached  the  hospital  Dick  collapsed  and 
was  carried  there  and  put  into  bed,  howling  with 
pain. 

Skinny's  wound  was  dressed.  He  was  taken  to 
the  office,  where  Mr.  Krammer  administered  the 
usual  whippings  given  all  who  escape  or  try  to.  Mr. 
Krammer  was  alone  in  his  ofTice  when  the  boy  was 
brought  in. 

"A  runaway,  eh?  Just  leave  him  to  me,"  said 
the  superintendent,  "we'll  fix  him  up." 

Skinny  was  stood  up  against  the  wall  and  the 
tears  rolled  down  his  sickly  cheeks,  over  cheek  bone 
and  into  the  hollows  and  down  again  on  his  big  and 
new  uniform.  "I  won't  do  it  again,"  he  wailed,  but 
the  big  man,  used  to  those  entreaties,  sat  at  his  desk, 
fixing  some  papers  unmindful  of  him,  till  his  sob- 
bing subsided  and,  childlike,  he  had  taken  an  in- 
terest in  a  large  book  of  maps  that  lay  open  on  the 
table,  and  forgot  about  his  troubles. 

"Now  come  here  to  me,"  said  Mr.  Krammer,  in 
anger,  when  ready  for  him,  and  pulled  out  from  one 
of  the  drawers  a  number  of  rattan  sticks  that  he 
kept  there  for  the  purpose. 

Skinny's  pleadings  increased  in  ferver, 

"Stop  that  noise,"  cried  Mr.  Krammer,  "and  come 
here  as  I  said." 

He  advanced  trying  to  subdue  his  wailing,  and 
the  superintendent  placed  his  hand  upon  the  boy's 
shoulder.  "Do  you  see  these  sticks?"  he  asked.  "I 
use  them  specially  for  boys  who  run  away.    Now 


162        A   BUNCH    OF    LITTLE    THIEVES 

stop  that  yelling,  or  it  will  be  the  worse  for  you.  I 
am  going  to  whip  you  now  and  whip  you  hard,  and 
when  I'm  through  I'm  going  to  lock  you  up  in  a 
coop  and  tie  you  hand  and  foot  with  these  cuffs  for 
a  whole  week.  After  that  time  you  will  never  try 
to  run  away  again." 

Both  promise  and  prophecy  were  carried  out, 
one  by  the  hand  of  the  superintendent  and  the  other 
by  a  greater  and  less  controllable  force.  Skinny's 
face  when  through  with  the  operation  was  wet  and 
dripping,  and  his  smarting  hands,  one  after  the 
other,  were  stuck  into  his  mouth  for  soothing  pur- 
poses, and  he  himself  was  incarcerated,  as  was 
promised  him,  for  a  week. 


CHAPTER    XIII 

AN  OFFICIAL  RECTIFICATION  OF  AN  UNOFFICIAL  MISTAKE 

There  is  a  sadness  in  the  change  of  seasons 
tliat  is  indescribable.  A  golden  autumn  steals  to  its 
end,  and  one  day  wakes  gloomily.  Dark  gray  clouds 
overhang  the  hills  and  sail  through  the  valleys. 
Creatures  bend  their  backs  and  stand  staring  away 
into  the  mysterious  North,  or  sit  within  doors  and 
gaze  out  upon  the  yellow  grass  and  leafless  trees. 

Ordinary  children  run  gleefully  up  the  stairway 
to  the  attic,  pull  out  of  great  heaps  of  clothes  their 
winter  garments,  run  out  into  the  sunless  outdoors 
and  defy  the  wind,  whicli  blows  and  tugs  at  cap  and 
ribbon,  and  goes  ofT  with  the  happy  sounds  of  their 
laughter. 

But  children  with  the  trials  of  men,  broken  and 
restrained  by  the  will  of  others  whom  they  hate,  who 
look  forward  to  cold  days  of  scrubbing  and  cleaning 
with  hands  more  chapped,  put  on  the  frowns  and 
furrows  of  their  elders,  and  figuratively  sit,  in  their 
cottages,  before  windo\\'s  and  stare  through  the  gray 
day,  over  fields  of  yellow  grass  and  woods  of  leafless 
trees  to  a  far  away  mysterious  North,  and  dread  the 
morrow.  Some  of  them,  old  enough,  look  back  upon 
a  yesterday  and  regret. 

This  Monday  was  the  monthly  letter  day  that  in- 
sfilution  jjoys  so  eagerly  look  forward  to,  the  day 
when  they  forget  the  things  they  are  punished  for, 
when  they  ignore  all  derisions  for  weakness,  and 
\\n\>'  llieii-  Ii'llfi's  Iiome  with  a  sentimeiitalily  liiat 


164        A    BUNCH    OF    LITTLE    THIEVES 

wets  the  inky  characters  and  spreads  blots  over  the 
paper. 

The  wind  blew  strong  and  tore  from  their  vines 
with  an  irresistible  force  the  last  red  leaves  from  the 
brick  walls,  and  sent  them  rolling  on  the  gravel  walk 
or  through  open  windows. 

Miss  Britter  sat  in  her  office  and  worked  over  a 
new  schedule,  when  one  of  the  red  leaves  flew  into 
the  room  and  settled  down  upon  the  paper  near  her 
pen.  She  looked  at  it  for  a  moment,  then  went  to 
the  window  and  looked  out  upon  the  death  of 
Autumn. 

The  boys  who  went  to  school  in  the  afternoon 
had  to  work  in  the  morning,  and  those  who  went  to 
school  in  the  morning  did  their  work  in  the  after- 
noon. As  she  stood  there  fingering  the  string  of 
the  window-blind  a  small  group  of  lads  marched 
out  of  the  dining  room  to  the  farm,  and  some  of 
them  looked  in  her  direction  and  smiled.  All 
of  them  pulled  their  caps  down  upon  their  necks, 
bent  their  backs  and  put  their  hands  into  their 
pockets.  The  farmer  went  somewhat  behind,  like 
a  slave-driver  following  his  victims.  These  passed 
before  her  like  shadows  on  a  screen,  and  she  re- 
turned to  her  desk. 

A  small  boy  rushed  into  the  ofTice. 

"Miss  Britter,  the  new  teacher  wants  you.  The 
boys  are  very  bad." 

Miss  Britter  followed  him  and  opened  a  door 
from  where  a  noisy  bedlam  died  suddenly  into 
silence.  Little  sinners  from  every  corner  of  the 
room  rushed  madly  to  their  own  seats,  clasped  their 
hands,  and  sat  up  stiff  and  quiet  like  little  wooden 
statues. 


A   BUNCH    OF   LITTLE    THIEVES         165 

Miss  Brilter  stood  up  erect,  stared  at  them,  and 
softly  closed  the  door  behind  her.  The  room  looked 
like  a  battle  field.  Books  were  scattered  all  over  the 
floor,  and  in  one  corner  a  large  box  of  chalk  had 
been  emptied  and  almost  powdered.  Two  windo\\'s 
had  had  to  give  way  to  flying  ink-wells,  and  a  small 
statue  on  the  book  case  had  had  its  nose  broken  off 
and  had  received  a  large  spot  of  ink  on  its  right 
cheek. 

She  ordered  them  to  get  busy  at  once,  pick  up 
every  book,  clean  the  lloors  and  the  walls  and  then 
return  to  their  seats. 

'"They  threw  spitballs,  and  one  of  them  hit  me 
with  a  piece  of  chalk,"  cried  the  new  teacher. 

"Yes,  I  see  that,"  Miss  Britter  answered  softly, 
anxious  to  have  her  brace  up  rather  than  exhibit 
her  weakness. 

The  room  was  cleaned,  and  every  boy  took  his 
seat,  clasped  his  hands,  sat  up  stilT  as  before,  and 
spread  a  very  serious  expression  over  his  face. 
Even  little  Tony's  big  eyes  were  serious,  and  he 
rolled  them  around,  turning  occasionally  towards 
other  boys  in  the  class  to  see  how  they  took  matters. 
His  little  legs,  unable  to  reach  the  floor,  sitting,  as 
he  did,  in  a  very  low  seat,  dangled  so  hard  that  they 
struck  against  a  part  of  his  seat,  and  the  noise 
frightened  him. 

Miss  Britter  had  them  sit  quietly  in  that  position 
for  about  fifteen  minutes,  then,  noting  the  strained 
expressions  on  each  face,  had  them  rise,  go  through 
a  number  of  physical  culture  exercises,  and  return 
to  the  same  position. 

"Can  you  give  me  the  names  of  the  boys  who 
started  this,  Miss  Turner?" 


1G6        A   BUNCH    OF   LITTLE    THIEVES 

"I  don't  expect  to  stay,"  she  whispered,  with  four 
fingers  against  her  mouth. 

"I'm  coming  in  again  in  a  little  while.  Miss  Tur- 
ner, will  you  please  point  out  to  me  then  the  boys 
who  have  not  done  what  they  should,  and  I'll  tell 
them  something  they  won't  be  very  happy  to  hear." 

"This  is  awful,"  she  said  to  herself,  as  soon  as 
she  closed  the  door  behind  her.  "What  can  I  do 
with  them?  It  is  not  their  fault.  Too  many  pupils 
for  one  teacher.  She  doesn't  give  them  work 
enough,  and  she  is  very  weak  on  the  whole.  The 
idea  of  her  telling  me,  before  all  those  children,  that 
they  hit  her  with  a  piece  of  chalk !  She  is  afraid  of 
them.     How  can  she  teach  them?" 

She  opened  the  door  of  Room  Four  so  carefully 
that  Nida  went  on  with  her  work  for  several 
moments  before  she  was  aware  of  Miss  Britter's 
presence.  Thirty-five  older  pupils  sat  in  their  seats 
fascinated  by  a  story  she  was  telling  them  in  con- 
nection with  a  geography  lesson.  Miss  Britter  was 
delighted.  "What  a  pleasure  it  is,"  she  thought,  "to 
come  into  a  room  where  there  is  sympathy  and 
respect  between  teacher  and  pupils."  The  boys  real- 
ized in  their  rough  way  that  Miss  Cane  was  a  friend 
of  theirs,  for  she  appreciated  the  difference  between 
one  mood  and  another  and  always  acted  appro- 
priately. Miss  Britter  told  what  she  knew  on  the 
subject,  and  the  boys,  being  allowed  to  discuss 
matters  and  tell  what  they  knew,  felt  that  they  were 
having  a  real  good  time. 

She  found  Mr.  Rolan  admonishing  a  rather 
penitent  looking  class. 

"The  change  of  weather.  Miss  Britter,  made  quite 
a  change  in  my  boys.     They  were  so  gloomy  they 


A   BUNCH    OF   LITTLE   THIEVES        167 

found  it  necessary  to  talk,  and  since  I  refuse  to  go 
on  with  my  work  while  anybody  talks,  I  had  to  stop 
and  tell  them  what  I  think  about  it." 

"Why  should  they  feel  gloomy  about  the 
weather?"'  she  asked,  ignoring  the  jocular  way  in 
which  he  had  said  that,  and  spreading  a  general 
smile  over  the  room.  "I  should  think  they'd  be  very 
happy  to  think  of  the  coming  of  snow — snow  balls 
and  sledging." 

At  this  the  smaller  boys  rubbed  their  hands  over 
their  chests  in  a  grunting  "ah,  ah,"  while  the  older 
boys  shook  their  heads  dubiously,  and  sneeringiy 
looked  out  of  the  windows.  Mr.  Rolan  wliispered  to 
Miss  Britter,  "I  don't  blame  them  much.  I  feel  as 
though  I  should  be  much  happier  out  doors  just 
now,  myself." 

In  Miss  Greet's  room  there  was  trouble.  The 
moment  Miss  Britter  opened  the  door.  Miss  Greet, 
who  had  been  yelling,  turned  her  head  and  blurted 
her  feelings  right  out.  "I  simply  cannot  go  on  to- 
day, Miss  Britter.  They  are  actually  rioting.  I  can- 
not do  anything.  They're  in  rebellion.  They  won't 
do  what  I  tell  them  to,  but  sit  and  giggle  and  carry 
on  frightfully.     They're  not  afraid  of  anybody." 

At  the  same  time  they  sobered  up  immediately 
upon  the  arrival  of  Miss  Britter,  who  put  oil  upon 
the  troubled  waters  by  the  remark,  "Oh,  well,  Miss 
Greet,  we  all  feel  out  of  sorts  to-day.  It  is  a  little 
gloomy — summer  has  gone,  and  now  autumn  is 
going.  Of  course,  there  is  no  excuse  for  disorder, 
and  I'm  sorry  for  the  boys  old  enough  to  be  in  your 
class  who  haven't  intelligence  enough  to  behave 
themselves.     I  am  quite  sure,  though,  that  they  feel 


168        A   BUNCH    OF   LITTLE   THIEVES 

out  of  sorts  and  will  feel  better  if  they  don't  let  this 
gloomy  day  bother  them." 

"Don't  you  think,  boys,  that  there  is  something 
very  beautiful  about  a  day  like  this,  too?" 

"Yes,  ma'm,"  said  one  boy,  "when  you  can  go 
out  doors,  in  the  woods,  and  climb  trees." 

"Yes,  that's  true;  that  would  make  it  better  and 
more  interesting.  But  I  mean  even  when  you  have 
to  be  in  a  room  where  you  can  merely  look  out  of 
the  window  and  watch  the  change  of  color  in  the 
trees,  see  the  last  leaves  torn  ofT  by  the  wind,  and 
think  of  the  years  you  have  lived  already — you're 
old  enough  to  do  that —  and  the  years  that  are  to 
come  to  you  yet.  Make  plans  of  what  you  are  going 
to  do  in  those  years.  Think  whether,  when  autumn 
or  winter  comes  to  you,  when  you've  grown  old,  you 
will  have  had  a  good  time  of  it,  or  whether  without 
education,  without  a  job,  or  without  friends,  you  will 
have  had  to  spend  your  days  on  a  park  bench,  cold 
and  hungry  and  miserable,  like  the  many  that  we  see 
to-day.  And  let  me  tell  you,  boys,  every  day  that  you 
fail  to  behave  and  go  without  getting  all  that  you 
should  out  of  your  work,  you  are  bringing  your- 
selves so  much  nearer  to  that  terrible  bench.  Don't 
think  that  by  bad  conduct  you  are  harming  anybody 
but  yourselves.  This  is  not  mere  talk  either.  Every 
time  you  act  that  way  you  are  making  stronger  some 
bad  habit,  and  before  long  your  characters  will  be- 
come bad  entirely,  and  the  world  is  very  mean  to 
bad  characters.  The  world  is  very  unforgiving. 
The  people  with  whom  you  will  have  to  deal  won't 
excuse  you,  as  I  do.  They  won't  say,  'Oh,  the  poor 
fellow  is  out  of  sorts!'  or,  'He  had  a  bad  time  of  it 
in  his  life,'  or,  'He  doesn't  mean  to  be  bad.'     The 


A   BUNCH    OF    LITTLE    THIEVES         U>9 

world  will  look  at  you  sharply,  and  if  you  don"t 
do  just  what  is  right,  it  will  put  you  out,  refuse  to 
give  you  that  job,  and  have  no  sympathy  with  you 
whatever. 

"Then  some  day  you  will  wake  up  and  find  that 
winter  has  come.  You  will  look  into  the  looking- 
glass  or  the  reflection  in  a  stream,  and  find  tliat  your 
hair  has  become  gray.  You  will  look  back  upon 
your  life  and  see  what  a  hardship  it  has  been,  and 
then  look  ahead  and  see  no  hope,  see  before  you  no 
home  and  no  friends,  except  perhaps  the  possi- 
bility of  a  poor-house.  Boys,  think  hard  about  this. 
I  hope  that  not  a  single  boy  in  this  room  or  this 
school  will  ever  have  to  feel  like  that.  I  know  you 
won't  if  you  will  think  about  it,  and  make  up  your 
mind  to  study  and  work  and  play  and  be  happy. 
You  must  think  about  it  and  say  to  yourselves,  'No, 
I  am  not  going  to  be  one  of  those  poor  old  miserable 
men  on  tlie  city  park  benches  with  torn  and  dirty 
clothes,  and  a  swollen  face,  mistreated  and  disliked 
by  everybody!'  You  may  not  agree  with  me;  you 
may  not  be  able  to  see  that  your  bad  conduct  to-day 
may  lead  you  into  that  kind  of  life,  but  if  you  don't 
see  it  now,  and  if  you  don't  take  my  word  for  it, 
there  will  come  a  time  when  you  will  see  it  that 
way,  but  when  it  will  be  too  late. 

"Now,  then,  stop  all  that  nonsense.  I  want  to 
see  every  boy  happy  all  the  time,  but  I  don't  lilce  to 
see  any  boy  make  a  fool  of  himself  at  any  time,  and 
I  have  already  told  you  why.  Play  as  much  as  you 
can  when  it  is  time  to  play;  but  forget  all  that  when 
you  come  to  the  class  room.  And,  boys,  ivc  will 
have  to  forget  it,  that's  all  there  is  to  it.  We  can  not 
have  such  nonsense  in  the  class  room. 


170        A   BUNCH    OF    LITTLE    THIEVES 

"As  I  look  across  the  room  I  can  see  many  faces 
of  boys  who  want  to  study  and  want  to  work  and 
make  strong  able  men  of  themselves,  and  to  guard 
them  I  must  see  that  the  fellow  who  wastes  their 
time  has  got  to  stop  doing  so.  You  can  do  as  you  like 
about  yourselves,  because  you  are  going  to  do  the 
suffering  for  it;  but  you  have  no  right  whatever  to 
bring  that  upon  other  people," 

Miss  Greet  set  them  to  work. 

"There  will  be  a  meeting  this  afternoon,  Miss 
Greet,  in  my  office.  Please  come  at  ten  after  three, 
sharp." 

Mr.  Liton  announced,  in  the  afternoon,  that  they 
were  to  make  the  rough  draught  of  the  letters  they 
were  to  send  home  for  that  month,  and,  as  they 
always  did,  the  boys  hailed  that  with  delight.  The 
yellow  scrap  of  paper  was  distributed,  and  every  boy 
fell  upon  it.  There  was  not  a  sound  in  the  room, 
and  Mr.  Liton  walked  to  the  window  and  looked 
down  into  the  gray  green  valley  and  upon  the  towers. 

Above  them,  the  heavy  clouds  flew  over  the  hill 
and  valley  like  great  mysteriously  peopled  airships 
coming  from  the  North  and  spread  over  the  sky  into 
an  even  dark  gray  tone;  and  the  purple  and  green 
landscape  turned  into  an  indistinct  blue.  He  watched 
the  leaves  carried  from  one  resting  place  to  another, 
dashed  against  other  trees  or  buildings,  or  going  on 
and  on  with  little  interruption. 

The  sky  dropped  a  snowflake,  and  then  another 
and  another,  and  soon  many  more,  until  the  atmos- 
phere was  one  blowing,  whirling  confusion  of  wind 
and  white  flakes.  A  boy  saw  it  and  ran  to  the 
window.  A  dozen  others,  and  before  long  the  whole 
class  followed  him,  and  soon  was  arranged  at  the 


A    BUNCH    OF    LITTLE    THIEVES         171 

\^indows  gazing  out  upon  Hie  coming  winter.  They 
stood  there  for  some  minutes. 

"It  may  be  bad  discipline,  according  to  some 
people's  notion,"  thought  Mr.  Liton,  "but  not  to 
mine.  I  could  not  be  dragged  away  from  here;  I 
shall  let  them  stay." 

Soon  one  fellow  returned  to  his  seat  to  continue 
his  letter  writing;  then  another;  and  one  after  the 
other  they  returned  to  their  seats,  with  new  inspira- 
tion. 

The  three  o'clock  bell  rang,  and  the  letters  were 
hastily  collected.  Mr.  Liton,  with  the  rest  of  the 
teachers,  went  to  Miss  Britter's  office  as  requested. 

"I  am  going  to  say  some  pretty  harsh  things  to- 
day," began  Miss  Britter,  when  all  the  teachers  had 
taken  their  seats,  "but  you  must  not  blame  me  for 
it.  I  have  spoken  to  you  about  these  very  things  so 
often,  and  they  have  been  forgotten  so  often  that  I 
am  forced  to  do  something  to  impress  them  most 
lastingly  upon  you.  Of  course  this  does  not  apply 
to  everybody. 

"I  refuse  to  have  twenty  boys  a  day  sent  by  each 
of  you  to  my  office  for  misconduct.  You  reduce 
your  own  influence  with  them  every  time  you  send 
them  to  me.  You  make  yourselves  weak  by  doing 
so.  Besides  showing  them  that  you  can  not  handle 
them,  I  have  so  many  of  them  in  my  office  at  one 
time  that  there  is  very  little  I  can  do.  Time  after 
time  I  have  the  same  boys,  and  many  times  I  can  see 
at  once  that  the  teacher  is  at  fault,  and  I  dare  not  say 
so.  If  you  sent  them  only  when  it  was  very  se- 
riously necessary,  I  would  be  able  to  do  a  great  deal. 
I  cannot  and  will  not  whip  them,  nor  will  I  allow 
any  one  else  in  the  school  to  do  so.    There  are  times 


172        A    BUNCH    OF    LITTLE    THIEVES 

\\-liGn  it  may  be  necessary  with  boys  wbo  have  been 
trained  to  do  nothing  until  the  slap  and  the  dig  is 
administered ;  but  in  nine  cases  out  of  ten  whipping 
is  more  useless  than  efTective  even  then,  for  that 
boy  has  been  hardened  to  that  kind  of  treatment, 
and  it  means  nothing  to  him. 

"But  worse  than  all,  is  the  fact  that  half  the  time 
the  boys  you  send  me  have  done  nothing  that  should 
have  provoked  your  anger.  Overlook  as  many 
things  as  you  conscientiously  can.  Don't  let  a  boy 
come  to  me  saying,  'I  was  only  laughing'  or  'She 
thinks  I  did  that  for  spite!'  That's  all  nonsense. 
Overlook  these  things  when  you  can,  and  settle  them 
yourselves  when  you  can  not. 

"I  have  come  into  class  rooms  and  found  teachers 
admitting  loudly  before  the  class  that  'I  can't  do 
anything  with  them;  they  throw  this,  that  and  the 
other  thing,'  and  so  forth,  and  so  forth!  Now, 
really,  can  you  imagine  anything  more  foolish? 
How  do  you  ever  expect  to  get  the  respect  of  your 
boys  when  you  make  yourselves  so  weak  before 
them?  If  you  must  say  that,  say  it  to  me,  when 
they  do  not  hear  it.  On  the  other  hand,  why  say  it 
at  all?  Some  teachers  can  handle  them  very  well. 
If  you  can't,  and  do  not  hope  to  acquire  the  ability, 
you  ought  to  send  in  your  resignation.  This  may 
seem  hard,  but  if  we  are  to  consider  the  welfare  of 
the  boys — and  we  have  no  right  to  consider  anybody 
else's  welfare  at  this  institution — it  is  not  a  matter  of 
whether  it  is  harsh  or  not.     It  is  just  so. 

"If  we  have  any  desire  to  make  ourselves  experts 
in  this  work,  we  must  train  ourselves  as  well  as  the 
boys.  If  we  have  no  such  desires,  then  it  is  high 
time  we  get  out  and  let  others  come  in  who  are  either 


A   BUNCH    OF    LITTLE    THIEVES         173 

capable  to  do  the  right  thing  at  once  or  who  are 
willing  to  try  to  learn." 

"If  they  were  afraid  to  go  to  the  office,"  said  Miss 
Brand  all  flushed  and  excited,  "they  would  not  have 
to  go  so  often." 

"Not  so  long  as  I  am  principal  here,  Miss  Brand, 
will  any  boy  be  afraid  to  come  to  this  ofTice.  I  am 
not  here  to  fill  them  with  fear,  nor  is  any  one  else. 
If  you  send  them  for  the  most  trifling  reasons,  and 
I  find  it  against  my  principles  to  censure  and  make 
more  miserable  a  boy  who  has  already  had  too  much 
of  the  world's  misery,  he  will,  consequently,  begin 
to  enjoy  coming  here.  He  will  also  be  losing 
respect  for  you,  who  can  not  attend  to  him  your- 
selves, or  wlio  delight  in  picking  a  quarrel  with  him 
over  every  little  thing.  If  I  i)unished  him,  I  should 
do  so  for  your  wrong-doing." 

"The  trouble  in  this  matter,"  said  Mr.  Liton, 
when  asked  to  discuss  the  question,  "is  that  many  of 
us  come  here  with  tlie  experience  that  we  got  in  the 
ordinary  public  scliools  and  try  to  work  our  ped- 
agogical principles  upon  these  boys,  who  are  rebels 
of  that  very  public  school.  The  public  school  in  the 
city  has  tried  to  educate  the  boys  now  in  our  charge, 
and  has  flatly  failed.  Its  'sissy'  ideas  of  behavior, 
which  means  jjutting  ytjur  limbs  into  an  imaginary 
vice,  that  has  gotten  the  boy  to  first  rebel  against 
it,  then  to  escape  it  by  truancy,  and  finally  to  sub- 
stitute for  it  the  street  with  all  its  vices.  The  boy 
has  landed  here.  You  can't  hope  to  reform  him  by 
demanding  the  discipline  he  fled  from.  I  never  tell 
my  boys  to  sit  up  or  to  pay  attention.  I  let  them 
stand  on  their  heads  if  they  desire  to  do  so,  but  aim 
to  make  my  instruction  interesting,  and  an  oppor- 


174        A   BUNCH    OF   LITTLE    THIEVES 

timity  for  all  kinds  of  activity  at  the  same  time.  A 
boy  scrawls  all  over  his  desk  trying  to  listen  to  what 
I  say,  because  he  is  interested.  Instead  of  telling 
him  to  sit  up,  I  walk  to  the  other  end  of  the  room, 
and  he  changes  his  position,  or  I  call  on  him  to  get 
something  for  me,  and  so  on.  One  thing  must  be 
done — the  session  must  be  made  one  period  of  active 
interest.  As  soon  as  I  fail  to  attract  the  boy's  atten- 
tion it  is  wasting  time  to  go  on. 

"A  boy  brings  bread  into  the  school  room  and 
eats  it  in  his  back  seat.  If  he  can  do  so  without 
attracting  the  attention  of  the  other  boys,  why  not  let 
him  do  it?  Since  he  eats  it,  he  must  want  it — and, 
very  often,  needs  it.  If  other  boys  do  see  him,  and  it 
does  interfere  with  attention,  then,  if  possible,  joke 
about  it,  let  them  all  laugh  over  it,  and  then  get 
right  at  your  lesson  again  with  a  doubly  interesting 
question. 

"I  have  taught  for  six  years  in  the  public  schools 
and  never  sent  a  single  child  to  the  office  after  the 
first  year.  My  first  year's  experience  proved  to  me 
that  it  is  w'orking  against  myself  to  do  so.  \Miy 
shouldn't  I  settle  my  own  affairs?  I  am  conceited 
enough  to  feel  that  Miss  Britter  can't  settle  my 
affairs  with  my  boys  as  well  as  I  can  do  so  myself; 
besides,  there  are  so  many  other  ways  in  which  Miss 
Britter  can  help  me  along,  why  should  I  waste  her 
valuable  time?  Of  course,  there  are  rare  occasions, 
but  they  are  rare,  very  rare,  or  at  least  they  ought  to 
be  very  rare.  I  want  to  say,  on  the  other  hand,  that 
the  conditions  here,  as  in  many  other  schools  are 
rank.  A  teacher  can  not  successfully  teach  thirty- 
five  angels,  much  less  thirty-five  spirited  boys  at 
one  time." 


A    BUNCH    OF    LITTLE    THIEVES         175 

"That's  just  it,"  said  Miss  Greet,  and  Miss  Brand, 
by  nodding,  showed  that  those  were  her  sentiments. 
'Tt  is  ridiculous  to  have  so  many  of  these  boys  in 
one  class  room." 

"While  I  agree  with  you  that  ten  or  even  twenty 
would  make  a  large  enough  class,  or  even  that  with 
more  than  that  number  ideal  teaching  is  impossible. 
Still  I  hold  that  the  amount  of  trouble  that  we  have 
is  far  in  excess  of  what  is  unavoidable." 

"As  to  making  classes  smaller,  there  is  really  no 
use  talking  about  it.  I  have  been  fighting  with  Mr. 
Krammer  over  this  for  more  than  a  year.  Not  only 
does  he  refuse  to  listen  to  any  plan  for  such  a  thing, 
but  he  has  deliberately  asked  me  a  few  days  ago 
whether  I  couldn't  condense  the  number  of  classes 
and  dispense  with  another  teacher.  So  that,  as  you 
see,  is  out  of  the  question." 

"If  we  received  a  half-way  decent  salary,"  said 
Nida,  "we  might  take  up  more  courses  at  the  uni- 
versity and  improve  our  teaching  ability.  I  think 
that  would  go  very  far  in  eradicating  some  of  the 
evil  results  of  our  ignorance." 

"The  larger  salary  you  speak  of,"  said  Mr.  Ro- 
lan,  "would  especially  be  useful  in  providing  meals 
for  us  so  that  we  shouldn't  all  be  dyspeptic  old 
cranks.  We'd  get  along  better  with  the  boys  if  we 
weren't." 

"I  want  to  add,"  began  Miss  Britter,  again,  ''thai, 
on  the  whole,  the  spirit  of  the  school  is  a  thousand 
times  better  that  it  was  a  year  ago,  and  now,  with 
all  the  wonderful  things  we  are  launching,  there  is 
no  telling  how  very  much  better  still  the  school  will 
be  in  the  future.  In  spite  of  all  the  disadvantages, 
we  are  on  the  road  to  great  success.    I'm  sure  that 


176        A   BUNCH    OF   LITTLE   THIEVES 

ill  a  short  time,  if  we  keep  on  and  do  our  level  best 
in  every  direction,  this  will  become  a  school  of 
fame,  for  there  are  more  earnest  people  here  than 
at  any  of  the  many  institutions  of  its  kind  that  I  have 
visited,  if  I  have  the  right  to  judge.  I  have  said 
nothing  with  the  intention  of  hurting  anybody's 
feelings.  I  have  merely  tried  to  impress  you  with 
the  importance  of  tolerance.  I  am  not  trying  to 
reduce  my  work.  I  am  trying  to  make  my  work 
more  valuable  to  you.  Why  should  I  waste  my 
time  trying  to  get  a  boy  to  stop  laughing  when  I 
might  spend  that  same  time  getting  interesting  sub- 
ject matter  for  you — getting  newer  and  better 
methods  and  helping  you  make  your  work  more  in- 
teresting and  efficient?  Don't  forget,  too,  that  my 
real  purpose  in  asking  you  to  take  care  of  your  own 
troubles  is  to  strengthen  you  in  their  eyes." 

The  discussion  was  continued  for  more  than 
an  hour,  and  everybody  having  been  given  the  op- 
portunity to  express  himself  or  herself,  the  spirit 
of  friendliness  increased  many  degrees,  and  each  one 
left  with  a  determination  to  try  harder  next  day. 

"Mr.  Liton,"  said  the  principal,  when  most  of  the 
teachers  had  gone,  "the  boys  from  Mr.  Saunders' 
cottage,  who  are  very  much  abused,  are  very  bad 
at  school.  They  have  been  giving  us  considerable 
trouble  ever  since  he  has  been  in  that  cottage. 
Whether  he  ridicules  the  teachers  before  them,  as  he 
does  before  his  friends,  or  not,  I  am  uncertain.  I 
know  that  they  are  very  bad  and  impudent.  I  would 
like  to  go  there  and  find  out,  but  you  see  I  would 
have  no  excuse  for  doing  so." 

"You  want  me  to  go  there?" 


A    BUNCH    OF   LITTLE    THIEVES         177 

"Yes,  I  would  like  to  have  you  go  there  and  call 
a  meeting,  and  see  what  you  can  do  with  them." 

"All  right,  I  will  do  that  after  supper.  Let's  go 
for  a  walk  now." 

They  went  to  the  farm  again,  where  they  found 
Miss  Brand  and  Miss  Greet,  and  all  gathered  for  a 
good  time. 

After  a  long  search  they  found  a  single  tree,  on 
which  a  few  red  apples  still  hung.  These  they 
picked  and  divided. 

"Look  here,"  cried  Miss  Greet,  who  had  jumped 
a  stone  fence  about  the  orchard. 

Everybody  followed  her  to  the  other  side.  There, 
against  the  wall,  lay  heaps  of  large  apples  that  had 
not  been  picked  and  for  sheer  laziness  had  been 
left  to  rot,  while  boys  in  their  cottages  were  driven 
to  stealing  foi*  want  of  them. 

"That  farmer  knows  very  little  about  apple  trees," 
said  Miss  Brand. 

"Would  that  his  ignorance  extended  no  farther," 
lamented  Miss  Cane. 

They  went  away  down  into  the  valley  and  ex- 
plored all  the  musty  old  corners  of  the  deserted 
house,  and  returned  for  supper. 

"Will  you  please  send  all  the  boys  of  Mr.  Saun- 
ders' cottage  home  to-night?"  asked  Mr.  Liton  of  the 
Colonel  after  supper. 

"Another  meeting  to-night?" 

"Yes,  a  special  meeting." 

"I  can't  send  them  all  back  right  now,  but  they 
can  all  be  there  by  six  o'clock." 

"That  will  do." 

Mr.  Liton  was  glad  to  find  on  arriving  at  Mr. 
Saunders'  collage  (liat  evening,  lliat  llio  cottage  fath- 


178         A    BUNCH    OF    LITTLE    THIEVES 

er  and  mother  had  gone  to  the  city,  it  being  their 
day  off.  There  was  a  faint  light  in  the  small  hall- 
way, but  the  sitting  room  was  in  darkness.  The 
boys  were  all  in  the  playroom  in  the  basement,  and 
the  tumult  coming  from  that  end  of  the  cottage  was 
deafening.  He  rang  the  bell  a  few  times,  but  re- 
ceived no  reply,  the  tumult  increasing  in  volume  as 
he  waited.  He  decided  to  go  below  through  the 
rear. 

Through  the  dust  that  filled  the  cement-floored 
room  he  could  see  one  of  the  watchmen,  a  beastly 
looking  individual,  with  a  boy's  bat  in  his  hands,  ad- 
ministering punishment  for  noise  and  creating  bed- 
lam. 

"This  is  the  worst  I  have  seen  here  yet,"  thought 
Mr.  Liton,  as  he  saw  the  bat  come  down  upon  a  lit- 
tle fellow  with  one  shoe  and  stocking  off,  and  he 
heard  the  awful  crying  that  resulted.  "That  man 
isn't  fit  to  be  put  in  charge  of  a  herd  of  oxen." 

He  made  his  way  in  and  attempted  to  get  silence. 
The  obliging  watchman  then  determined  to  hasten 
the  coming  of  silence  with  his  bat  and  a  horrify- 
ing, "at — ten — shun!" 

Every  time  the  bat  came  down,  a  yell  followed, 
like  lie^htning  and  thunder,  and  in  response  to  his 
peculiarlv  accented  call  for  attention  there  was  a 
burst  of  laughter.  Bony-faced  youngsters  with  sores 
on  their  eyes  or  foreheads  ceased  the  wailing  and 
started  the  laughter  as  often  as  he  changed  from 
the  one  to  the  other  of  his  attempts  to  get  order. 

Mr.  Liton  then  interfered  and  after  a  strenuous 
attempt  the  room  was  silenced,  and  as  he  looked 
upon  that  wretched  crowd  he  was  on  the  verge  of 
giving  up.     "So  much  misery,"  he  thought,  "I'm 


A    BUNCH    OF   LITTLE    THIEVES         179 

afraid  there  is  no  room  for  anything  else." 

"We  are  going  to  hold  a  special  meeting  to- 
night," he  finally  informed  them.  "Please  get  into 
line  and  let's  go  up-stairs." 

"Thank  you,  Mr.  Liton!  thank  you,  Mr.  Liton!" 
came  from  the  entire  line,  and  Mr.  Liton  knew  that 
the  thanks  were  offered  not  so  much  for  the  meeting 
as  for  the  relief,  however  brief,  from  this  insane 
individual. 

They  were  asked  to  take  seats  in  the  sitting-room, 
and  Mr.  Liton  sat  at  his  little  table  looking  at  them 
and  unable  to  speak  for  fully  three  minutes,  and 
they,  with  their  wet  eyes  and  habitually  frowning 
foreheads,  wondered  whether  he  was  angry. 

"Boys,  I  came  to  make  arrangements  with  you 
for  holding  your  meetings  and  to  help  you  to  start 
upon  the  work  that  you  are  to  do,  but  I  can  hardly 
go  on." 

"It's  not  our  fault,"  said  one  of  the  boys,  a  thin 
lanky  fellow,  "that  watchman's  crazy." 

"Well,  if  I  had  just  come  in  here  for  the  first 
time,  and  had  seen  what  I  saw  to-night,  I  would 
agree  witli  you.  Yes,  it  was  his  fault,  he  is  very 
funny." 

"I3ul  it  just  happens  that  I  was  told  to-day,  and 
I  hope  you  have  a  good  explanation  for  this,  that 
this  cottage  is  the  worst  cottage  in  Abolt  School." 

"Because,"  said  Ernest,  the  unappreciated  genius, 
"we  have  a  succession  of  such  watchmen;  cottage 
father  Saunders  and  the  watchman  are  alike  in  their 
insanity." 

There  was  tlie  precocious  Ernest  delivering  him- 
self of  tlie  truth,  and  Mr.  Liton  wns  lost  as  to  what 
to  saw 


180        A    BUNCH    OF    LITTLE    THIEVES 

"This  isn't  the  only  night  of  its  kind,"  he  went 
on,  taking  advantage  of  Mr.  Liton's  inability  to 
speak.  "We  have  that  bat  performance  every 
night."* 

"We  try  to  be  decent,"  pitched  in  another,  "but 
they  won't  let  us  do  anything  here.  They  won't 
let  us  have  any  meetings.  I  am  secretary  of  this 
cottage.  He  took  my  books  away  and  my  pencil  and 
gave  me  a  licking." 

This  provoked  a  fit  of  laughter  on  the  part  of  a 
few  of  them ;  the  rest,  like  Mr.  Liton,  did  not  feel  in 
the  mood. 

"There  is  no  use  talking,"  went  on  Ernest,  "we 
won't  have  any  meetings  here.  He  won't  let  us 
have  them.  We  might  as  well  give  up.  He  laughs 
at  them  and  says  we  act  like  fools,  and  that  we're 
not  fit  for  meetings,  making  of  himself  both  judge 
and  jailer." 

"Yesterday  he  heard  us  talking  about  the  maga- 
zine," put  in  Tifton,  a  tall,  bright  looking  boy,  one 
of  the  brightest  in  Mr.  Liton's  High  School  class, 
"and  began  to  make  fun  of  it.  'You  needn't  worry,' 
said  he,  'Mr.  Liton  is  only  foolin'  you.  He'll  take  all 
the  stuff  you  write  and  throw  it  into  the  waste-paper 
basket.'  " 

"He  said  that  to  you?"  asked  Mr.  Liton,  his  face 
expressing  the  rage  within  him. 

"Yes,  sir,"  and  half  the  other  boys  helped  him 
by  many  additional  "Yes,  sirs"  and  "I  heard  'im." 

"Well,  boys,  I  can  not  say  any  more  to  you  tlian 


*This  picture  like  almost  every  other  one  in  this  book 
is  a  description  of  what  actually  took  place  and  what  in 
reality  was  much  more  brutal  than  it  can  be  made  to  appear 
in  words. 


A   BUNCH    OF   LITTLE   THIEVES        181 

that  I  am  going  to  try  to  help  you,  I  will  speak  to 
Mr.  Krammer  to-morrow  about  it,  but  you  must 
promise  to  do  your  best  in  the  meantime.  I  want 
ISIiss  Britter  to  tell  me  next  week  that  your  cottage 
was  the  best  in  behavior  and  not  the  worst.  Do  you 
think  that  is  possible?" 

There  was  a  subdued  "Yes,  sir,"  in  reply,  but  a 
dubious  expression  spread  over  each  face  from  the 
bony,  disgusting  ones  to  the  few  bright,  healthy 
ones.  They  were  ready  to  do  what  was  right,  but 
as  Tifton  then  expressed  himself,  "You  haven't  been 
here  long  yet,  Mr.  Liton.  ^A^ait  till  you're  here  a 
little  longer;  you'll  find  out  a  few  things.  Not  many 
people  think  as  you  do  about  it,  and  the  rest  of  'em 
are  all  against  you.  You'll  find  that  out.  We've 
tried  to  have  cIuIds  many  times,  but  they  don't  want 
them  to  be  successful,  and  you'll  find  out  why." 

Mr.  Liton  told  them  a  story  of  his  own  experi- 
ence, told  them  of  a  trip  he  had  taken  across  the 
ocean,  described  in  detail  the  hardship  of  the  sailors, 
and  then  gave  them  a  picture  of  Liverpool — the 
smoky  atmosphere,  the  gloomy  parks,  with  their 
men  out  of  work,  asleep  on  the  benches.  He  told 
them  of  the  little  boys  and  girls,  with  sores  all  over 
them,  and  who,  dressed  in  rags,  went  about  the 
streets  begging  or  selling  matches.  Then  he  took 
them  to  London,  about  one  of  the  London  bridges, 
and  let  them  see  and  feel,  as  only  they  with  their 
experience  could  see  and  feel,  tlie  life  in  the  slums 
there.  In  that  way  he  gave  them  a  real  picture 
of  what  living  in  the  underworld  meant,  and  then 
showed  them  that  by  studying,  becoming  educated 
or  learning  one  or  more  trades,  they  could  keep 
themselves  above  that  underworld. 


182        A   BUNCH    OF   LITTLE    THIEVES 

Then  he  started  upon  a  difTerent  course.  He  told 
of  some  of  the  great  men  in  the  world  who  struggled 
against  the  forces  that  pull  people  down,  and  rose 
to  usefulness  and  happiness.  He  described  with 
such  vividness  every  step  he  knew  in  the  life  of 
Owen  Kildare  that  every  boy  felt  that  that  was  a 
description  at  least  in  part  of  his  own  life,  and  hoped 
that  he  might  reach  some  distance  in  the  height 
Kildare  had  climbed.  Then  he  laid  his  plans  be- 
fore them.  He  was  going  to  teach  photography, 
which  was  not  only  fascinating,  but  one  could  earn 
his  living  with  a  knowledge  of  it.  Some  of  the  boys, 
by  writing  for  the  magazine,  could  learn  to  be  writ- 
ers, that  in  the  magazine  they  would  have  drawings 
as  well,  and  that  those  who  have  ability  would  be 
given  a  chance  to  learn  to  be  illustrators.  That,  later 
on,  when  the  things  he  was  starting  now  would  be 
running  smoothly,  he  would  give  the  boys  a  chance 
to  study  many  other  things,  that  he  had  friends  who 
would  come  and  teach  them. 

"Then,  too,"  he  went  on,  "when  you  show  Mr. 
Krammer  that  you  love  your  republic  and  obey  the 
laws  that  you  make,  and  get  along  well  in  school, 
he  will  let  us  go  out  into  the  woods  and  camp  and 
take  pictures,  and  so  on." 

Some  of  the  boys  joined  in  the  enumerating  of 
the  many  things  that  could  be  done  in  the  woods,  on 
the  farm,  and  it  was  this  response  that  assured  Mr. 
Liton  that  he  had  succeeded  in  doing  what  he  had 
set  out  to  do,  and  he  hesitated  in  leaving  them  to 
the  watchman. 

"Perhaps,"  thought  he,  "if  I  could  keep  them  for 
the  rest  of  the  evening,  and  send  that  watchman 
away,  I  will  have  made  some  kind  of  a  lasting  im- 


A   BUNCH   OF   LITTLE   THIEVES        183 

pression  upon  them." 

"Shall  I  stay  with  you  for  the  rest  of  the  even- 
ing?" he  asked  them. 

The  reply  is  impossible  to  describe,  for  it  came 
by  way  of  facial  expressions  and  excitement  as  well 
as  words.  From  the  few  who  answered  enthusi- 
astically "Yes,"  it  rose  to  those  who  gathered  about 
him  and  pleaded  and  begged. 

"All  right,  then,"  said  he,  "I'll  stay.  I'll  go  down 
stairs  and  tell  the  watchman  that  he  can  go  on,  but 
you  must  be  quiet  while  I'm  gone." 

Below  he  found  the  watchman  dozing  on  a  bench 
in  one  corner  of  the  basement  play  ground.  "I'm 
going  to  take  care  of  these  boys  for  the  rest  of  the 
evening,  if  you  don't  mind." 

"Put  them  to  bed  and  all?" 

"Yes." 

"All  right,  thank  you,  thank  you.  Take  'em, 
take  'em,  I'll  go  and  get  a  little  snooze."  With  this 
he  left. 

Mr.  Liton  walked  into  the  engine  room,  gathered 
some  wood  and  paper,  helped  himself  to  a  small 
box  of  matches  that  lay  on  a  shelf  there,  and  walked 
u[)  stairs.  Without  saying  a  word  to  the  happy 
youngsters,  laughing  and  talking  rapidly,  he  walked 
up  to  the  fireplace,  put  the  paper  and  small  pieces 
of  wood  under  the  two  logs  that  lay  there,  and  set 
a  match  to  it. 

"There'll  be  a  row,  to-morrow,"  said  Tifton  as 
he  watched  it. 

"Why?"  asked  Mr.  Liton. 

"Because  they  never  do  that,  and  they'll  have 
to  replace  the  logs  so  it  looks  nice  should  visitors 
come." 


184        A   BUNCH   OF   LITTLE   THIEVES 

"But  this  wasn't  built  for  visitors.  This  is  exact- 
ly what  it's  for." 

Snaky  tongues  of  flame  were  soon  struggling 
from  paper  and  wood  into  the  throat  of  the  fire- 
place, and  the  boys  stood  about  and  gazed  at  them. 
All  the  lights  in  the  room  but  one  in  the  farthest 
corner  were  put  out,  and  the  chairs  were  replaced 
about  the  two  tables.  Mr.  Liton  invited  them  to  sit 
down  upon  the  rug  with  him,  and,  with  their  arms 
embracing  their  knees,  they  watched  the  lights  and 
shadows  as  they  danced  and  interchanged. 

The  boys  fought  with  each  other  as  to  w^ho  was 
to  sit  nearest  to  him,  until  he  began  the  story  he 
promised  to  tell  them,  when  they  huddled  together 
as  best  they  could  and  drank  in  every  word,  staring 
into  the  fiery  center  of  the  fireplace. 

One  of  the  boys  who  could  sing  very  well  him- 
self, suggested  that  they  sing.  "Home,  Sweet  Home," 
received  the  largest  number  of  votes,  and  not  alone 
because  of  its  familiarity,  and  was  started. 

"But  we  must  sing  very,  very  softly,  almost  a 
whisper,"  said  Mr,  Liton,  and  the  soft,  rather  inhar- 
monious music  that  followed,  with  the  smoke  from 
the  burning  log,  passed  out  through  the  chimney  and 
rose  high  into  the  heavens. 

From  the  singing  of  "Home,  Sweet  Home,"  they 
went  into  a  discussion  of  what  it  means  to  have  a 
home  and  be  away  from  it,  and  not  to  have  a  home 
at  all,  and  Mr.  Liton  was  one  of  them  and  talked 
to  them  as  equals. 

Then  they  began  to  sing  again,  and  while  they 
were  singing  the  door  softly  opened  and  Miss  Britter 
with  Mr.  Rolan  and  Miss  Cane  entered,  unheard. 


A   BUNCH    OF    LITTLE    THIEVES         185 

Mr.  Rolan  walked  up  on  his  loes,  and  touched 
Mr.  Liton  on  the  slioulder. 

"Hello!-' 

A  whole  shower  of  "Helios"  followed,  and  the 
visitors  had  to  answer  each  one  of  them. 

"Do  you  know  that  the  first  bugle  will  blow  in 
another  minute?"  asked  Rolan. 

Mr.  Liton  hastily  pulled  out  his  watch,  and  the 
boys  were  alarmed,  and  all  jumped  to  their  feet. 

"Somebody'll  be  kickin',  Mr.  Liton,"  said  the 
cadet,  "^^^e  must  hurry  down  or  there'll  surely  be 
trouble." 

"Oh,  don't  worry,  Til  be  responsible  for  what- 
ever happens.  Let's  go  down  though  and  be  as  quick 
as  possible." 

They  went  below  and  washed,  put  their  shoes 
away,  made  the  gruesome  semi-circle,  bent  their 
heads,  said  their  prayers  and  were  soon  making  their 
way  up  again. 

The  three  visitors  stood  in  the  hallway  as  they 
passed  up  and  returned  to  each  a  sincere  "Good 
night." 

Within  a  few  minutes  every  boy  had  put  his 
clothes  into  the  locker  and  was  in  his  little  bed,  and 
just  as  Mr.  Liton  was  locking  the  last  of  the  two 
dormitory  doors,  after  having  turned  out  the  lights 
and  bid  them  all  good  night,  they  hoard  the  lovely 
sound  of  "Taps." 

In  the  sitting  room,  Mr.  Liton  found  his  friends 
seated,  as  the  boys  had  been,  about  the  fireplace,  and 
joined  them.  They  talked  away  about  Abolt  School, 
pupils  and  officers  until  the  light  from  the  fire  went 
down  and  only  a  few  living  embers  were  left.  Then 
every  bit  of  ashes  was  scrupulously  cleaned  up  and 


186        A   BUNCH    OF   LITTLE   THIEVES 

the  floor  about  the  fireplace  was  wiped  clean  with  a 
rag. 

Miss  Britter  and  Miss  Cane  retired,  and  Mr.  Rolan, 
who  lived  in  that  cottage,  invited  Mr.  Liton  to  bring 
the  letters  he  had  to  correct  that  night  to  his  room, 
where  they  could  work  and  guard  the  cottage  at  the 
same  time. 

Mr.  Liton  went  for  his  letters  and  when  he  re- 
turned comfortably  seated  himself  on  Rolan's  bed, 
and  with  a  board  on  his  lap,  went  to  work. 

Mr.  Liton's  eyes  filled  with  tears  as  he  read  the 
first  letter. 


"My  dear  Uncle  : 

"It  snowed  to-day  for  the  first 
time,  and  winter  will  soon  be  here.  All  the  yellow 
leaves  that  looked  like  gold  all  autumn  are  soon 
going  to  be  covered  up  with  the  white  snow,  and 
lay  that  way  all  winter,  till  summer  comes  again; 
then  they  will  be  all  rotten  and  very  brown. 

"I  am  very  happy  to  see  the  seasons  go,  for  soon 
I'll  be  a  man  and  will  be  free.  I  am  not  very  happy 
here  and  am  always  thinking  of  home,  and  how  sad 
everything  turned  out.  I  feel  very  bad  because  you 
didn't  come  to  visit  me,  it  seems  to  me  that  you  have 
not  yet  forgiven  me,  though  you  say  you  have.  I 
know  I  have  disgraced  your  family  after  you  have 
done  so  much  for  me,  but  I  can  only  say  that  maybe 
some  day  I  will  be  able  to  have  my  revenge  upon 
some  of  the  people  I  know,  by  showing  them  that 
they  are  mistaken  too,  about  me. 

"If  you  don't  care  to  come  to  see  me,  let  Willie 
come.  It  will  make  me  feel  so  good,  or  does  he  feel 
the  same  way  as  you  do  about  me  ? 


A   BUNCH    OF   LITTLE   THIEVES        187 

"Please  let  him  and  Annie,  too,  come  if  they 
want  to. 

Your  Nephew, 

GEORGE." 

The  second  letter  was  as  significant  as  the  first, 
and  although  Mr.  Liton  had  thought  that  his  sym- 
pathy up  to  this  time  had  been  as  deep  as  it  could 
have  been,  he  felt  a  deeper  sympathy  towards  these 
unfortunate  boys  now  than  ever.  His  heart  went 
out  for  them. 

"My  dear  Mother: 

"It  is  now  over  a  year  since  I 
was  taken  away  here,  and  as  I  see  the  snowflakes 
falling  I  begin  to  think  about  you  and  Charlie  and 
Rhoda,  and  about  myself.    Why  I  am  here. 

"Mamma,  I  am  sorry  to  tell  you  that  I  have  not 
been  as  good  as  I  promised  you  last  time  I  would 
be,  and  have  gotten  another  report,  and  will  have 
to  stay  here  three  weeks  longer,  }3ut  it  is  not  entirely 
my  fault.  I  have  a  streak  of  badness  in  me  and, 
mother,  I  am  struggling  very  hard  with  this  bad- 
ness, and  I  hope  to  get  it  out  of  me.  I  want  to  grow 
up  a  good  man  and  go  out  and  earn  money  and  help 
you  and  the  children.  It  is  not  all  my  fault  why 
I  got  that  report.  I  will  tell  you  why  when  you 
come  to  visit  me  again. 

"Things  are  nicer  here  than  they  ever  were  be- 
fore, and  I  hope  that  from  now  on  I  will  not  have 
to  get  any  more  reports.  I  have  a  new  teacher  and 
he  is  the  best  man  we  ever  had  here,  that's  what  all 
the  boys  say.  He  started  a  republic  and  a  council 
that  will  iielp  us  out  and  try  to  show  those  people 
when  they  want  to  give  us  reports  that  we  did  not 
mean  to  be  bad,  and  I  think  most  always  we  won't 
get  our  report  if  we  behave  ourselves  after  that.    He 


188         A   BUNCH    OF    LITTLE    THIEVES 

is  going  to  have  a  magazine  for  us,  too,  and  I  am 
working  very  hard  to  write  something  for  the  first 
number,  I  am  surely  going  to  have  something  in 
it  for  I  have  tried  very,  very  hard  and  have  written 
two  stories  and  a  poem,  and  one  little  thing  about 
our  school  and  one  about  autumn  and  winter.  He 
is  also  going  to  have  a  photography  class,  and  every 
boy  that  behaves  himself  will  be  able  to  learn  photo- 
graphy, and  I  am  going  to  behave  myself  every 
minute.  I  want  to  learn  photography  and  in  that 
way  make  some  money  when  I  get  out  and  help 
you.    It's  nice  to  know  anj-Avay,  isn't  it? 

"Now  please  tell  Charlie  arid  Rhoda  to  write  to 
me.  I  wait  all  night,  the  night  before  the  letters 
can  come  to  us,  and  can't  sleep  thinking  that  to- 
morrow I'll  get  some  letters.  Please  write.  All  the 
boys  in  my  cottage  get  letters  but  I.  \A^ith  love  to 
all,  I  am, 

Your  son, 

BENEDICT." 

"P.  S.  Please  bring  me  a  white  sweater  next 
time  if  you  can  spare  the  money,  but  if  you  haven't 
it  never  mind." 

Mr.  Rolan  sat  on  the  other  end  of  his  bed,  his 
head  resting  on  his  left  hand,  while  Mr.  Liton  read 
the  letters  he  considered  interesting  to  both. 

"Look  for  Ernest's  letter,"  said  Rolan.  "Miss 
Britter  always  reads  his  letters  to  us ;  they  are  great." 

Mr.  Liton  searched  among  the  bundle  of  yellow 
letters  until  he  came  upon  it,  then  read. 

"My  dear  Mother: 

Another  season  is  dead,  and  still 
I  am  here,  and  I  sometimes  wonder  how  many  more 
seasons  will  die  before  I  can  be  with  you  again.  I 
am  feeling  unusually  blue  to-day,  so  don't  worry 
if  my  letter  is  very,  very  bad.    The  hill  we  looked  at 


A   BUxNGH    OF   LITTLE   THIEVES        189 

togetlier,  with  its  towers  in  the  air,  is  now  wrapped 
in  a  bhnding  whirl  of  snow  and  leaves,  so  that 
everything  is  obliterated,  till  it  looks  as  if  this  were  a 
nortliern  desert,  with  the  air  as  barren  as  the  sand. 
Oh,  mother,  if  you  can  ever  realize  how  within  my 
heart  I  repent,  you  will  forgive  me  for  the  sliame 
I  have  brought  upon  you.  I  feel  as  though  I  have 
been  tied  to  a  stone  in  that  desert,  and  have  buried 
my  head  in  the  sand.  There  are  few  people  I  can 
talk  to  here.  With  the  exception  of  my  new  teacher 
and  Miss  Britter  and  one  or  two  others,  there  is  not 
a  soul  that  understands  me  or  with  whom  I  can  en- 
joy a  conversation.  I  am  fortunate  though  in  hav- 
ing that  new  teacher  and  look  forward  to  a  winter 
more  interesting  than  the  last.  He  is  really  interest- 
ed in  the  boys  and  wants  to  help  them.  He  is  try- 
ing to  start  many  lovely  things,  and  if  they  don't 
interfere  with  him,  we  will  be  a  happy  set  of  boys. 
Among  the  many  things  he  is  trying  to  do  is  the 
publishing  of  a  magazine,  and  there  is  some  talk 
of  my  being  made  the  editor  of  it — you  know  I 
should  like  nothing  better. 

"I  had  some  trouble  with  the  wretched  Mr.  Saun- 
ders. He  is  the  most  ignorant  man  I  ever  met,  es- 
pecially when  he  gets  drunk  or  smokes  against  the 
rules.  Rules  were  only  meant  for  us  to  keep.  The 
other  day  he  was  a  little  tipsy,  I  think,  and  when  he 
came  into  the  sitting  room  I  was  reading  a  book  in 
a  corner,  while  a  few  fellows  were  making  a  lot  of 
noise;  he  started  to  plot  against  me.  He  said  that 
T  jumped  all  around  the  room  till  I  heard  him  com- 
ing and  then  sat  down.  It  made  me  very  angry  and 
I  tried  to  toll  iiini  tliat  he  was  mistaken,  but  he 
wouldn't  listen  to  me  and  said  he  saw  me  do  il. 
Now,  mother,  I  know  in  my  heart  thnt  I  was  sifting 
riglit  in  that  corner  reading.  Well,  I  lost  my  tem])er 
and  told  him  that  he  was  a  liar.  He  hit  me  with  his 
fist,  bill  lliJil's  .'ill  riglil  now,  lie  diHu't  Inii'l  me  nuicli ; 


190        A    BUNCH    OF    LITTLE    THIEVES 

but  he  and  the  Colonel,  who  hates  me,  too,  punish 
me  by  putting  me  into  the  kitchen  scrubbing  floors. 
They  wanted  me  to  apologize  to  him. 

"I  will  tell  you  more  about  everything  when  you 
come.  Don't  speak  to  anybody  about  this  when  you 
come.  They  don't  know  any  better  and  it  will  only 
make  it  worse. 

"My  love  to  all  of  you.  With  the  hope  that  I 
will  soon  be  able  to  return  to  civilization,  I  am  your 

boy, 

ERNEST." 

"They'll  never  let  that  through,"  said  Rolan. 

"Does  anybody  else  look  through  these  letters 
besides  Miss  Britter?" 

"Oh,  yes.  They're  looked  over  in  the  office  after 
Miss  Britter  examines  them." 

"Well,  then,"  said  Liton,  "1  won't  let  it  go  to  the 
office  at  all.  I'll  ask  him  to  write  another  to-mor- 
row." 

A  noise  in  the  hallway  brought  both  of  them 
to  their  feet,  but  it  was  only  the  cottage  father,  who 
was  returning  late  and  tipsy,  followed  by  the  cot- 
tage mother  in  but  slightly  better  condition.  His 
foot  caught  in  a  small  rug  and  tripped  him.  His 
wife  helped  him  up  again  as  best  she  could,  and  the 
two  walked  into  their  room,  the  cottage  father  swear- 
ing and  grumbling. 

Relieved  from  his  vigil,  Mr.  Liton  returned  to  his 
own  room  and  went  to  bed. 

Next  morning  he  was  up  with  the  bugle  call,  and 
continued  correcting  his  letters,  till  all  were  finished. 
He  then  started  for  his  class  room,  having  no  desire 
whatever  to  enter  the  dining  room.  Miss  Britter  was 
already  in  her  office  and  apparently  upset. 

'"Anything  wrong?"'  he  asked, 


A    BUNCH    OF    LITTLE    THIEVES         191 

"Yes,  there  are  a  number  of  things  wrong." 

"What's  the  trouble?" 

"To  begin  with  Nida  is  quite  sick.  Her  lungs 
are  in  a  very  bad  condition.  I  will  have  to  see  that 
she  leaves  as  soon  as  possible.  The  conditions  here 
have  cost  her  her  health.  I  wish  I  could  send  her 
to  Colorado.  I'm  thinking  I  ought  to  go  with  her, 
I'm  not  feeling  very  well  myself." 

Mr.  Liton  stood  there  silently  and  stared  out  into 
the  winter-threatening  outdoors.  A  winter  indeed 
seemed  to  have  suddenly  come  down  upon  matters. 

"Miss  Turner  left  yesterday."  went  on  Miss  Brit- 
ter,  "and  her  boys  too,  are  to  be  taken  care  of.  Think 
of  it.  I  have  a  friend  who  would  be  an  ideal  teacher 
for  that  class,  a  girl  with  experience  and  love  for 
the  work.  She  is  willing  to  give  up  her  position  and 
come  here,  a  distance  of  about  a  thousand  miles.  I 
know  her  and  have  worked  with  her  for  years.  She 
would  be  an  inspiration  here,  but  he  won't  have 
her  because  she  is  my  friend.  He  is  suspicious — and 
ignorant.  'Too  many  of  these  good  people  here 
already.'  He'd  rather  have  his  thirty-five  dollar 
agency  teachers,  that  no  one  else  will  have,  and  rule 
supreme." 

"He  won't  have  your  friend?" 

"No,  he'll  go  to  the  city  to-morrow  and  get  a 
teacher;  but  she  will  be  the  fifth  teacher  for  that 
class  in  the  last  three  months,  and  I  simply  will 
not  stand  for  incompetents  any  longer.  These  boys 
should  have  tiie  best  teachers  and  not  the  worst." 

The  large  hall  door  was  heard  to  open  and  the 
superintendent  walked  into  the  hallway,  and  made 
for  Miss  Britter's  otTlce.  His  face  was  pale  and  his 
eves  flashed  fire. 


192        A   BUNCH    OF   LITTLE    THIEVES 

"You  will  please  call  a  special  meeting  this  after- 
noon," he  said  nervously  after  a  very  cold  "good 
morning;"  then  turned  about  and  went  to  his  own 
office. 

"Something  is  up." 

"Looks  like  it,"  said  Miss  Britter,  "but  you  can't 
tell.  He  may  be  all  smiles  by  the  time  the  meeting 
is  held." 

But  he  didn't  look  much  pleasanter  that  after- 
noon when  he  stood  on  the  platform  buttoning  and 
unbuttoning  his  neatly  pressed  Prince  Albert.  The 
cottage  parents  were  all  there,  beaming  as  if  about 
to  gain  a  great  victory.  Mr.  Liton,  quite  weary, 
stood  near  Mr.  Rolan  in  one  corner.  At  the  opposite 
end  of  the  room  stood  Miss  Britter,  worn  out  after  a 
day  of  teaching  two  classes  and  the  usual  principal's 
duties,  thinking  of  her  trunk,  a  long  distance  of 
railroad,  and  the  boys  she  would  leave  behind  her. 

The  superintendent  began  to  speak,  "Boys,  in 
creating  your  republic  you  have  made  a  great  error, 
a  great  mistake,  and  that's  what  I've  gathered  you 
this  afternoon  to  rectify.  You  have  gotten  the 
wrong  notion  that  you,  through  your  council,  are 
to  talve  away  and  give  all  reports.  I  want  you  to 
remember  that  there  is  only  one  source  for  the  giv- 
ing and  taking  of  reports,  and  that  is  right  here." 
And  the  superintendent,  with  overwhelming  dignity, 
pounded  an  index  finger  upon  his  august  breast. 
"No  one  can  give  or  take  away  reports  outside  of 
my  office.  Mr.  Liton  is  a  new  man  here,  and  though 
I  am  sure  he  meant  well,  it  was  a  mistake." 

"I  beg  your  pardon,"  cried  Mr.  Liton  across  the 
room,  filled  with  anger,  "but  I  think  you  are  mis- 
taken, Mr.  Krammer,  and  I  am  going  to  ask  you, 


A    BUNCH    OF    LITTLE    THIEVES         193 

since  you  have  mentioned  my  name,  to  allow  me  to 
explain  to  you  my  real  position  in  the  matter." 

Being  unable  to  do  anything  else,  this  having 
come  rather  unexpectedly,  Mr.  Krammer  granted 
him  the  permission. 

"I  want  to  say  first  for  the  boys,"  began  Mr. 
Liton,  "that  there  is  not  a  single  boy  here  that  has 
had  any  such  a  notion,  I  took  special  care  in  ex- 
plaining over  and  over  again  that  we,  the  council, 
had  no  such  idea  in  our  heads.  What  we  meant, 
and  what  we  made  clear,  was  that  we  should  try 
to  influence  the  boys  so  that  they  would  have  to 
get  no  reports.  That  is,  that  if  a  teacher  or  parent 
wanted  to  report  a  boy,  if  they  were  willing  to,  they 
should  give  the  boy's  name  to  the  council  and  with- 
hold his  report  until  the  council  proved  to  be  unable 
to  make  that  boy  behave  himself,  but  if  the  council  did 
get  the  boy  to  behave  himself,  then  the  report  should 
be  erased  entirely.  I  had  it  strictly  understood  that 
that  applies  only  to  those  teachers  and  parents  who 
were  in  sympathy  with  the  republic  and  were  anx- 
ious to  help  us  along.  That  those  teachers  or  parents 
who  did  not  sympathize  with  our  work  need  have 
nothing  to  do  with  it,  and  can  go  on  and  give  re- 
ports to  their  hearts  content. 

"If  any  boy  as  much  as  intimated  that  he  thought 
we  were  going  to  give  and  take  away  reports  to  or 
from  any  boy,  I  would  like  to  have  that  boy  get  up 
riglit  here  in  front  of  tlie  rest  of  the  boys  who  are 
being  scolded,  (iikI  Iftl  Mr.  Krammer  how  he  gut 
that  notion." 

"Wf'll,"  begnn  the  superintendent  again,  "where- 
ever  the  mistake  arose,  Mr.  Liton,  this  meeting  is 
simjjly  called  to  rectify  it,  and  if  every  boy  goes 


194        A   BUNCH    OF   LITTLE    THIEVES 

away  from  here  knowing  just  how  matters  stand, 
we  have  nothing  more  to  bother  or  worry  about." 

There  was  a  moment  of  silence,  and  Mr.  Kram- 
mer  realized  that  he  had  made  a  great  fuss  over  a 
little  thing  that  could  have  been  explained  without 
that  fuss,  and  to  make  it  appear  that  this  was  but  a 
minor  part  of  the  programme,  pulled  out  a  little 
book  from  his  pocket,  looked  at  the  title  page,  closed 
the  book  and  dropping  the  hand  with  which  he  held 
it  to  his  side,  stroked  his  beard  with  his  other  hand 
and  addressed  the  boys  once  more. 

"I  am  going  to  read  to  you  a  little  book  that  I 
have  read  to  you  frequently.  It  is,  in  a  way,  another 
Bible  to  me.  I  have  spoken  about  it  to  you  many 
times.    Who  knows  what  it  is?" 

A  number  of  hands  went  up,  and  one  boy  was 
called  upon. 

"A  Message  to — ,"  here  the  boy  stopped,  he  had 
forgotten. 

"That's  right,"  said  Mr.  Krammer,  coming  to  his 
assistance,  "A  Message  to  Garcia,  by  Elbert  Hub- 
bard. I  am  going  to  read  it  to  you  again,  and  per- 
haps many  more  times.  I  want  you  to  make  it  your 
Bible  in  a  way.  I  want  you  to  fix  those  truths  in 
your  minds  so  that  you  grow  up  and  be  successful 
men,  men  that  the  world  wants,  men  that  can  always 
get  a  job — desirable  citizens." 

He  read. 

Ten  minutes  of  reading  and  the  boys  grew  rest- 
less. One  little  fellow  talked  incessantly.  The  Colonel 
walked  over  towards  him  on  tiptoes,  and  not  wish- 
ing to  make  his  punishment  audible,  grabbed  his 
ear  and  pinched.it,  digging  his  fmger  into  the  lobe. 
The  little  fellow  shrugged  his  shoulders  and  tried 


A   BUNCH    OF   LITTLE   THIEVES        195 

to  keep  himself  from  screaming,  but  this  seemed 
only  to  invite  the  Colonel  to  dig  deeper,  until  the 
little  fellow,  unable  to  bear  it  any  longer,  shrieked 
and  interrupted  the  reading.  Colonel  Reilly  then 
made  him  rise  and  took  him  outside,  and  Mr.  Kram- 
mer,  who  had  stopped  to  stare  indignantly  at  the 
offender,  continued  his  reading. 

The  restlessness  continued  and  increased  as  the 
pages  turned  over.  Finally,  when  the  boys  were 
actually  getting  noisy  with  the  stretching  of  hands 
and  feet,  the  tiling  ended,  and  every  boy  sat  up  again 
to  hear  Mr.  Krammer's  renewed  praise  of  the  great 
work. 

The  meeting  was  about  to  adjourn.  Mr.  Liton 
once  more  interrupted  proceedings.  "Just  one  mo- 
ment, Mr.  Krammer.  You  said  that  at  the  next 
meeting  you  would  have  the  boys  vote  on  whether 
they  would  be  willing  to  give  their  good  behavior 
money  for  the  support  of  the  magazine." 

"Yes,  I'm  glad  you  reminded  me." 

Mr.  Krammer  explained  the  whole  matter  to  the 
boys  and  ended  by  saying,  "Those  of  you  who  are 
willing  to  give  your  ten  cents  a  month  whenever 
you  earn  it  by  good  behavior  for  the  publication  of 
a  magazine,  raise  your  right  hand." 

Every  single  boy  in  the  room  put  up  his  right 
hand,  and  Mr.  Krammer  with  a  nod  of  his  head  to 
Mr.  Liton,  left  the  platform,  but  before  he  reached 
the  door  a  loud  a])plause  broke  out  that  nearly  put 
an  end  to  magazine  and  republic.  The  superin- 
tendent left  the  room.  The  boys  went  wild,  the  ap- 
plause grew  louder,  and  finally  brought  with  it 
thumping  on  the  floor  and  whistling.  It  sounded 
like  a  riot. 


196        A    BUNCH    OF    LITTLE    THIEVES 

Colonel  Reilly  was  enraged.  He  stamped  his  foot 
and  yelled,  "Attention,"  till  he  grew  red  in  the  face. 
When  they  finally  did  quiet  down,  he  promised 
them  that  they  would  have  no  playing  that  day,  and 
that  the  time  they  had  after  supper  would  be  spent 
in  standing  on  line  in  the  school  hallway. 

All  the  letters  had  already  been  corrected  and  re- 
written, and  Miss  Britter  was  to  go  through  them, 
finally,  after  supper,  so  that  they  could  be  sent  into 
the  office  next  day,  Mr.  Rolan  and  Mr.  Liton  prom- 
ised to  help  her. 

Immediately  after  supper  they  all  went  to  visit 
Nida,  whom  they  found  in  bed,  quite  weary.  They 
told  her  all  about  the  meeting  and  Nida  claimed  that 
that  was  medicine  to  her,  and  that  if  they  would 
come  again  and  tell  of  another  such  a  victory  she 
would  become  entirely  well. 

"Gome  in  again  after  you  have  looked  over  the 
letters,  will  you?"  asked  Nida  in  a  pleading  tone. 

"Are  you  very  anxious  to  have  your  cottage  fath- 
er come  in  again  to  tell  you  that  you  are  making 
too  much  noise?" 

"Don't  you  care  about  that.  We  have  no  other 
place  to  gather  in  but  our  rooms,  and  they  can't 
stop  us  from  doing  that  until  they  provide  another 
place.  You  come  to-night  anyway,  and  you  can 
make  some  chocolate.  I  am  sick  to-night,  so  they 
won't  care  anyway." 

They  returned  to  the  office,  and  were  working 
away  on  one  letter  at  a  time,  with  over  three  hun- 
dred of  them  spread  on  the  table,  when  the  heart- 
sickening  "thud,  thud,"  of  a  long  line  of  boys  moved 
into  the  hallway.  The  Colonel  and  several  officers 
and  cadets  came  along  on  each  side  and  command- 


A   BUiNGH    OF    LITTLE    THIEVES         197 

ed  threateningly,  "Hip,  hip — hip,  hip,  etc."  When 
the  first  boy  had  reached  the  extreme  end  of  the  hall 
and  the  last  had  entered  the  opposite  door,  they  were 
commanded  to  halt  and  then  to  turn  about  with 
their  backs  on  the  open  door  of  Miss  Britter's  office. 
There  they  were  to  stand  for  an  hour.  The  Colonel 
and  officers  brought  chairs  out  from  the  difTerent 
class  rooms  and  sat  down. 

^^'hen  the  hour  was  over  and  they  had  thrown 
the  weight  of  their  bodies  from  one  foot  to  the  other 
an  innumerable  number  of  times,  they  were  sent  to 
their  cottages.* 

"Did  you  see  them  try  to  look  in  here?" 
"Yes,  it  just  breaks   my  heart.     They  become 
worse  every  day  with  that  treatment.     And  why 
shouldn't  they?' 

"I  certainly  would  become  ungovernable,"  said 
Liton,  "if  I  were  treated  in  that  way." 

"They  are  not  angels,  mind  you.  I  know  that 
some  of  them  can  do  pretty  mean  things ;  but  I  also 
know  that  they  are  capable  of  doing  the  right  thing 
when  given  half  a  chance." 

The  conversation  was  interrupted  by  another 
swing  of  the  doors,  and  the  Colonel's  voice  was  heard 
once  more.  He  held  a  runaway  by  the  shoulder  and 
was  taking  him  to  the  superintendent's  office.  The 
office  door  was  locked  and  the  Colonel  with  one  hand 
full  of  the  boy's  coat,  stood  against  the  wall,  waiting. 
Miss  Britter  looked  out.  The  little  prisoner  rolled 
his  big  eyes  in  her  direction,  and  she  recognized 
Michael  Roate. 


♦The  writer  can  see  in  this  wretched  line  faces  that  he 
knows,  faces  of  weary  boys,  some  of  whom  are  even  now 
doing  penance  in  this  unhealthy  manner. 


198        A    BUNCH    OF   LITTLE    THIEVES 

There  was  a  second  swing  of  the  doors,  and  Mr. 
Krammer,  who  had  been  sent  for,  came  in  and  with- 
out noticing  Michael,  put  his  key  into  the  lock  and 
opened  his  office  door. 

"Mercy,"  cried  Miss  Britter,  "come  away  from 
here  at  once.    If  I  hear  that  child  cry,  I'll  go  crazy.'' 

They  hastily  packed  their  letters  away,  locked 
the  office  door,  and  started  for  Nida's  cottage.  Nida 
was  found  fast  asleep,  so  they  took  the  road  to  the 
farm  and  the  valley  beyond  it.  When  they  returned 
that  night,  the  office  light  and  all  other  lights  were 
out,  and  they  knew  that  Michael  was  resting  on  the 
floor  of  one  of  the  coops,  resenting  with  bitter  tears, 
the  lashes  he  had  received. 


CHAPTER    XIV 

VICTORY 

The  turn  in  affairs  at  the  last  meeting  had  a  dual 
effect  on  the  boys.  There  were  some  who  were  cer- 
tain, almost  beyond  a  doubt,  that  the  authorities 
were  against  Mr.  Liton's  work  and  would  make  it 
impossible  for  him  to  accomplish  what  he  under- 
took, and,  with  frowning  faces,  they  expressed  them- 
selves to  that  effect.  On  the  other  hand,  most  of  the 
boys  marked  down  one  after  another  of  his  victories, 
and  were  as  certain  that  he  would  be  victorious  in 
the  end.  Both  attitudes  were  degenerating  in  their 
effects,  for  the  boys  recognized  friends  and  enemies 
in  those  who  controlled  and  instructed  them,  and 
that  was  bound  to  end  in  disruption  of  some  sort. 

On  the  staff  it  had  a  singular  effect.  The  super- 
intendent, realizing  that  the  methods  he  and  his  as- 
sistants had  employed,  merely  strengthened  the  ad- 
versary's hold  on  the  boys,  decided  to  work  with 
them  until  the  psychological  moment  should  come, 
when  he  would  change  the  course  of  things.  He 
would  let  them  make  attempts  and  see  that  they 
failed,  while  his  countenance  would  express  friend- 
ship and  sympathy. 

Miss  Britter  was  willing  to  teach  the  first  grade 
herself  until  a  new  teacher  would  be  brought;  but 
should  the  new  teacher  fail  as  the  others  did,  she 
would  then  prevail  upon  him  to  appoint  her  friend, 
whom  she  knew  to  be  capable,  who  had  taught  other 
classes  of  the  kind  with  far-reaching  success,  and 
who  was  willing  to  come. 


200        A   BUNCH    OF    LITTLE    THIEVES 

Nida's  boys  had  collected  a  huge  bunch  of  flow- 
ers and  were  happy  that  her  condition  had  so 
changed  that  she  was  able  to  come  to  the  class  room 
and  receive  them. 

The  teachers  collected  stacks  of  manuscripts 
from  the  boys,  who  now  felt  assured  of  the  publica- 
tion of  the  magazine.  After  school  that  afternoon, 
at  the  call  for  help  in  the  editorial  room,  the  re- 
sponse was  so  great  that  it  was  almost  impossible 
to  choose  without  showing  great  partiality.  Those 
who  were  not  chosen  were  given  promises  for  next 
time,  and  Miss  Britter's  office  was  turned  into  an 
editorial  room,  and  three  typewriters  and  a  dozen 
editors,  with  Ernest  as  editor-in-chief,  worked  away 
with  incomparable  zeal.  Compositions,  stories  and 
poems,  remarkably  good,  were  read  and  marked, 
and  the  best  set  aside  for  publication.  Several  boys 
were  given  drawing  paper  and  pen  and  ink,  and 
set  to  work  to  draw  something  suitable  for  the  cover. 

By  the  time  the  bugle  mustered  the  boys  to  pre- 
pare for  supper,  almost  all  the  work  had  been  done. 
A  few  manuscripts  were  still  to  be  typewritten,  and 
Mr.  Krammer  gave  the  necessary  permission  to  Jack, 
who  had  learned  to  typewrite  in  the  office,  to  spend 
the  evening  in  Mr.  Liton's  room,  where  Mr.  Liton  had 
a  typewriter  of  his  own,  to  finish  that  work. 

There  was  just  time  enough  before  supper  to  go 
for  a  walk,  and  the  same  old  road  was  taken.  Miss 
Brand  and  Miss  Greet,  who  were  in  the  group,  ex- 
pressed their  sympathy  with  the  undertakings  about 
to  be  accomplished,  and  ofTered  their  services.  A 
meeting  of  the  council  was  planned  for  the  follow- 
ing evening  to  show  what  influence  it  might  have  on 


A   BUNCH    OF   LITTLE    THIEVES         201 

offenders,  and  all  the  teachers  were  pledged  to  en- 
courage and  support  it. 

After  supper  Mr.  Liton,  who  was  walking  down 
the  main  roadway  towards  his  cottage,  admiring 
the  autumn  evening  in  the  valley  and  on  the  hill, 
saw  Jack  running  towards  him,  delighted  with  his 
job  and  anxious  to  begin  the  work. 

They  fixed  the  room  up  conveniently,  arranging 
the  lights  to  suit  the  typewriter,  and  Jack  was  soon 
at  work  at  his  little  table  and  machine.  He  worked 
some  time,  when  Mr.  Liton  asked  him  to  stop  for  a 
while  and  drink  some  of  the  milk  that  he  daily  or- 
dered from  a  neighboring  farm,  and  eat  some  of  the 
cookies  that  he  had  bought  in  Abolt  for  the  occasion. 

"I'll  be  all  through  in  a  few  minutes,"  said  Jack. 
"May  I  go  on  till  I  am  through?" 

"All  right,  if  you'd  rather." 

Both  were  at  work  again,  Mr.  Liton  in  front  of 
his  library,  which  all  the  boys  never  tired  of  ad- 
miring, and  Jack  thumping  away  at  the  keys,  which 
to  him  in  this  case  sounded  like  music. 

"I  am  through,"  said  Jack  finally,  and  with  an 
air  of  triumph  and  importance,  handed  the  neatly 
written  manuscripts  to  his  employer,  as  he  called 
him. 

"Now  you  have  some  of  this,"  said  Mr.  Liton, 
"and  let's  sit  and  talk  awhile.  You  still  have  three- 
quarters  of  an  hour." 

Jack  drank  some  of  the  milk  nervously  and  be- 
gan with  something  that  had  evidently  bothered  him 
a  long  time. 

"Mr.  Liton,  do  you  think  that  a  story  of  my  life 
would  interest  the  boys — I  mean  if  you  published  it 
a  little  at  a  time  in  the  magazine?" 


202        A   BUNCH    OP    LITTLE    THIEVES 

"I  am  sure  it  would." 

"You  know  my  life  was  different  from  the  lives 
of  most  other  boys.  I  have  traveled  almost  all  over 
the  world.  I  have  been  in  Australia,  Africa,  India, 
New  Zealand,  across  the  Pacific  to  San  Francisco, 
and  across  the  United  States  to  New  York." 

"Well — I  should  say.  That  will  be  very  interest- 
ing. Why  didn't  you  tell  me  about  it  before?  I 
should  like  to  have  had  the  first  instalment  published 
in  the  first  number." 

"I  didn't  know  for  sure  that  you  would  think  it 
good  enough." 

"That  was  foolish.    Tell  me  more  about  it  now." 

"I  was  born  in  Sydney,  Australia,"  began  Jack, 
with  a  far-away  look  in  his  eyes,  "and  my  father  had 
a  cigar  store  there.  They  did  some  gambling  and 
had  me  run  errands.  My  mother  suffered  a  great 
deal;  I  can  remember  her  crying  many  nights  in  the 
kitchen  by  the  lamplight,  or  on  the  steps  of  the 
stoop  looking  up  the  street.  Then  she  and  my  sister 
Nan  ran  away,  and  about  a  year  later  my  father 
wanted  to  get  rid  of  me  and  sent  me  off  to  an  uncle 
of  mine  in  New  York.  I  was  kept  on  board  the  first 
boat  like  a  prisoner.  Then  I  got  sick  and  was  left 
with  a  white  man  in  Borneo,  who  kept  me  a  few 
months  sleeping  on  a  board  that  he  put  over  a  kind 
of  bath  tub,  and  I  became  worse,  and  then  he  sent 
me  away  on  another  ship.  Like  that  I  went  from 
one  ship  to  another  until  I  reached  San  Francisco. 
From  there  I  was  taken  on  many  trains  to  New  York. 
My  uncle  was  nice  to  me  for  a  little  while,  and  then 
began  to  treat  me  bad.  He  never  let  me  have  a  cent, 
and  hit  me  all  the  time.  I  ran  away  from  home,  but 
he  caught  me  and  whipped  me  more.     He  had  a 


A    BUNCH    OF    LITTLE    THIEVES         203 

cigar  store,  too,  and  he  made  me  work  very  hard  in 
it.  Then  I  stole  some  money  and  got  away  as  far 
as  BufTalo,  where  I  hoped  to  get  work  and  then  pay 
him  back,  but. the  police  caught  me  there  and  sent 
me  back,  and  then  I  was  sent  here." 

"You  don't  know  where  your  mother  and  sister 
are?" 

"No,"  replied  Jack,  and  began  to  cry  bitterly. 

"Don't  cry,"  said  Mr.  Liton,  himself  in  tears.  "I 
will  try  to  help  you  fmd  them." 

"Oh,  no,  please  don't,"  begged  Jack,  very  much 
alarmed,  "that  may  make  it  worse.  That  will  make 
tliem  know  that  I  am  in  a  reform  school,  and  maybe 
they  won't  want  to  have  me  find  them.  When  I 
leave  this  place  I  will  work  and  earn  some  money, 
and  then  I  will  try  to  fmd  them,  and  they  won't  know 
that  I  ever  was  in  a  reform  school,  and  they'll  be 
glad  to  see  me." 

To  Jack's  little  mind  the  excitement  had  brought 
back  pictures  so  vivid  that  he  felt  as  if  he  had  been 
torn  from  those  he  loved,  all  over  again.  "If  my 
mother  had  been  with  me,  I  never  would  have  come 
here,"  he  continued. 

Mr.  Liton  tried  very  hard  to  comfort  him.  He 
knew  that  every  boy  was  anxious  to  get  into  the 
photography  class,  and  he  thought  of  a  scheme. 

"Ill  tell  you  what  I  will  do.  I  am  going  to  put 
you  into  my  photography  class  and  teach  you  to 
make  good  pictures,  and  as  soon  as  you  get  out,  I 
will  try  to  get  you  a  position  with  a  photographer 
where  you  can  earn  money,  and  then  try  to  get  to 
where  your  mother  is." 

This  had  its  effect.  In  a  short  while,  with  the 
aid  of  additional  promises,  he  was  smiling  through 


204         A    BUNCH    OF    LITTLE    THIEVES 

his  tears,  and  the  two  walked  out.  Not  far  from  his 
cottage,  to  which  Mr.  Litoii  was  taking  him,  they 
met  the  Colonel. 

"What  are  you  doing  here?"  he  demanded  of 
Jack,  paying  no  attention  whatever  to  Mr.  Liton. 

"I  was  helping  Mr.  Liton.  Mr.  Krammer  told  me 
to." 

"He  didn't  tell  you  to  stay  as  long  as  this.  Get 
to  your  cottage  right  away — double  time!" 

Before  Mr.  Liton  was  aware  of  what  had  hap- 
pened, the  boy  had  left  him  on  a  run,  while  the 
Colonel  turned  about  and  walked  away.  Mr.  Liton 
was  enraged  and  was  half  inclined  to  go  after  him 
and  tell  him  what  he  thought  of  him,  but  a  second 
thought  sent  him  on  his  way  to  Mr.  Staver's  cottage. 

"Good!  you're  wanted,"  cried  Nida,  just  as  he 
entered.  "We  have  several  very  interesting  things 
we  want  to  entertain  you  with." 

"First,  let  me  introduce  you  to  my  wife,"  said  Mr. 
Staver,  "this  is  the  first  time  she  has  been  up  in  three 
months." 

Mrs.  Staver  sat  in  a  well-pillowed  chair  near  the 
fireplace;  the  girls  sat  on  either  side  of  her  and 
Rolan  sat  near  his  window  looking  out. 

"Then,"  he  continued,  "we  want  you  to  hear 
our  new  violin  solo." 

"I  shall  be  very  glad  to,  Mr.  Staver,  but  I  do  wish 
you  could  turn  the  steam  on  a  little." 

"Can't.  One  of  the  pipes  broke.  I  have  been 
after  the  engineer  and  Mr.  Krammer  till  I'm  sick  of 
doing  so.  It  is  three  weeks  now  and  it  hasn't  been 
attended  to  yet.    It  was  mighty  cold  last  night." 

"It's  cold  enough  to-night." 


A    BUNCH    OF    LITTLE    THIEVES         205 

"It  must  be  awful  in  the  dormitories.  They  have 
all  the  windows  open." 

'•I  heard  my  boys  close  them  last  night,"  said 
Mr.  Staver,  "but  I  never  moved.  I  let  them  do  it. 
Why  not?     Why  should  they  freeze?" 

"It's  worse  though  to  let  them  sleep  without  air." 

"You  see  I  haven't  got  blankets  enough  for  them 
either.  I  ordered  more  blankets  last  winter,  yet  I 
don't  expect  them  for  this  winter.  Our  superin- 
tendent is  economical." 

The  violin  solo  was  finally  played,  and  Mr.  Liton 
insisted  on  its  being  played  tliree  times  before  he 
would  listen  to  the  other  entertainment  they  had 
for  him. 

"Now  you  can  tell  me  what  you  want  to,"  he  said, 
after  the  solo  ended  its  third  encore. 

"We  want  you  to  read  a  few  pages  from  Mr. 
Krammer's  last  annual  report,  where  he  tells  the 
world  what  is  done  at  Abolt  School  to  reform  the 
bad  boys,"  said  Miss  Britter. 

Nida  interrupted  her,  "You  mean  for  the  uplift 
of  the  boys  in  our  charge." 

"I  don't  care  to  read  about  their  uplift,"  replied 
Liton,  "I  have  seen  them  often  enough  drop  them 
down." 

"No,  but  read  it;  it  is  a  joke  and  you'll  enjoy  it." 

"No,  no!  No  reports  for  me.  I  have  read  those 
lies  so  many  times  and  in  so  m.uiy  forms  that  it 
will  only  iiiak(i  me  feel  like  strangling  somebody.  I 
know  wiiitt  he  says  as  well  as  you  do  who  have  read 
it." 

"But  you  don't  know  what  ideal  people  we  have 
here,  till  you  read  it — how  the  boys  are  segregated, 
how  the   cottage   mothers  and   fathers  study  each 


206        A   BUNCH    OF    LITTLE    THIEVES 

individual  child  in  order  to  give  them  the  greatest 
possible  opportunity  of  understanding  him,  and — " 

"This  refers  particularly  to  Messrs.  and  Mrs. 
Bloate  and  Saunders,  and — " 

"Please  put  it  away.  It's  more  like  a  funeral 
than  an  entertainment  to  me,  it  makes  me  weep. 
Let's  have  some  more  music." 

The  concert  continued  until  the  lights  went  out, 
when  everybody  retired. 

The  next  evening  the  council  met  in  Mr.  Liton's 
class  room.  The  twenty  members  were  seated  with 
all  the  dignity  due  them,  in  the  first  twenty  seats 
in  the  room.  Behind  them,  and  apart  from  them, 
sat  those  of  the  teachers  who  cared  to  be  present, 
and  standing  on  the  right  side  of  the  room,  lined 
up  against  the  wall,  were  the  offenders.  Mr.  Liton 
sat  at  his  desk,  looking  over  a  list  of  names  of  offen- 
ders and  their  different  offences. 

"Samuel  King,"  he  called  out,  "you  are  the  first 
on  the  list.    Please  come  up  here  in  front." 

"Miss  Britter  will  you  kindly  tell  the  council 
what  this  boy  is  up  here  for?" 

"This  boy,"  began  Miss  Britter,  "is  in  the  first 
grade.  Every  one  of  the  teachers  he  has  had  com- 
plains that  he  starts  all  the  trouble  in  the  room.  I 
want  to  give  him  the  full  fifteen  marks  every  week 
until  he  does  differently,  but  I  will  leave  it  to  the 
council.  If  they  can  suggest  anything  better,  since 
I  am  only  trying  to  help  Samuel,  I  will  do  as  they 
say." 

"What  have  you  to  say  for  yourself?" 

Samuel  cried  as  if  he  was  about  to  be  murdered. 
It  took  him  several  minutes  to  calm  down  far  enough 
to  be  able  to  speak. 


A    BUNCH    OF    LITTLE    THIEVES         207 

"They  always  say,"  he  sobbed,  "that  I  do  it. 
Everything  is  blamed  on  me.  I  asked  her  for  paper 
and  she  made  me  go  to  my  seat." 

"And  that  happened  every  single  day,  did  it, 
Samuel?" 

Samuel  couldn't  answer. 

"I  move,"  said  one  member  of  the  council,  rising, 
"that  Samuel  should  be  kept  on  line  for  a  week,  and 
if  during  that  week  be  behaves  himself  and  does  his 
work  as  he  should,  be  allowed  to  play  again,  and 
the  reports  should  not  be  given  to  him;  but  if  he 
doesn't  behave  himself  and  doesn't  do  his  work,  he 
should  get  fifteen  marks  and  stay  another  week  on 
Une." 

"I  don't  agree  with  that,"  said  another  member. 
"Even  bad  boys  must  play.  I  say  we  should  either 
let  him  have  the  fifteen  marks — "  Here  he  was  in- 
terrupted by  tlie  renewed  wailing  of  Samuel.  He 
went  on  "or,  if  he  promises  faithfully  to  behave 
himself,  hold  the  fifteen  marks  over  for  a  week, 
and  if  he  has  kept  his  promise  by  that  lime,  we 
should  forget  about  his  marks." 

This  was  then  put  into  the  form  of  a  motion, 
most  of  tlie  boys  having  agreed  to  that,  and  second- 
ed and  carried. 

"William  Mason,"  said  Mr.  Liton,  "please  come 
forward." 

WilUam  Mason  was  a  bigger  boy.  The  matter 
struck  him  as  being  somewhat  funny,  and  he  strug- 
gled very  hard  to  keep  back  a  laugh,  pincliing  his 
hands  held  back  of  him,  looking  up  at  the  ceiling 
and  down  at  his  audience  at  intervals,  and  wishing 
that  it  was  all  over. 


208        A   BUNCH    OF    LITTLE    THIEVES 

"Miss  Brand,  is  this  your  boy?" 

"Yes,  he  is." 

"Will  you  kindly  tell  the  council  why  you  have 
him  here?" 

"Certainly,"  said  Miss  Brand,  coming  forward. 
"He  is  very  impudent,  talks  back,  and  is  always  up 
to  all  sorts  of  tricks.  I  wanted  to  give  him  fifteen 
marks  again,  but  I  thought  I'd  wait  and  see  what 
the  council  can  do  with  him." 

"What  have  you  got  to  say  for  yourself?"  asked 
Mr.  Liton. 

"I  can't  say  anything,"  answered  William,  who 
had  sobered  up  considerably  at  the  mention  of 
fifteen  marks.  "What's  the  use  of  my  sayin'  any- 
thing; nobody'll  believe  me  anyway." 

"If  you  tell  the  truth,"  said  Mr.  Liton,  "there's 
not  a  person  in  this  room  that  won't  believe  you." 

"I  try  very  hard  to  do  the  right  thing,"  William 
began  again,  "but  she,  Miss  Brand,  has  made  up 
her  mind  that  whenever  I  laugh  I  laugh  at  her.  I 
don't  know  what  for,  and  everything  I  do,  she  takes 
for  that.  I  am  not  impudent,  that's  my  way  of 
talking,  that's  all." 

"Let  me  tell  you,  William,"  said  Mr.  Liton  slow- 
ly and  seriously,  "if  you  really  want  to  do  what  is 
right,  you  must  stop  that  bad  habit  of  laughing  that 
way.  It  may  be  true  that  you  mean  nothing  bad 
by  that  conduct,  but  it  is  not  only  Miss  Brand  who 
won't  like  it,  no  matter  what  you  mean  by  it.  When 
you  go  out  into  the  world,  William,  you'll  be  a  very 
unhappy  man  if  you  act  that  way  there,  if  you 
don't  break  that  bad  habit.  Nobody  objects  to  hon- 
est laughter,  but  everybody  resents,  dislikes  a  silly 
impudent  laugh.    And  they  don't  stop  to  ask  why 


A   BUNCH   OF   LITTLE   THIEVES        209 

you  do  it,  out  in  the  world,  but  they  treat  you  for 
what  you  do." 

"I  move,"  said  another  member,  "that  we  ask  all 
the  members  of  the  literary  and  athletic  committees 
not  to  use  him  for  anything  anywhere  until  Miss 
Brand  tells  us  next  time  we  meet  that  he  doesn't 
do  that  any  more." 

William  frowned  a  little  at  that,  and  another  mem- 
ber changed  the  motion  to  the  effect  that  if  William 
showed  any  signs  of  trying  to  do  better,  to  Miss 
Brand's  satisfaction,  nothing  would  be  held  against 
him. 

Miss  Brand  agreed  to  that,  and  promised  to  make 
a  report  at  the  next  meeting.  One  after  another  of 
the  offenders  was  brought  to  the  front  of  the  room, 
admonished  and  given  the  much  desired  other 
"chance."  The  councilmen  were  inexperienced  but 
showed  sign  of  possible  legal  ability.  As  they  went 
on  in  their  work  some  of  them  warmed  up  almost 
into  lawyers,  and  spoke  hke  little  men. 

The  teachers  were  certain  that  the  offenders 
would  not  cease  to  offend,  but  they  could  not  help 
feeling  that  there  was  something  about  this  meeting 
that  promised  to  grow  into  a  great  influence.  The 
boys,  on  the  other  hand,  now  felt  that  their  teachers 
were  anxious  to  be  fair.  Then,  too,  when  they  re- 
ceived punishments  prior  to  this,  offenders  always 
felt  that  the  sympathy  of  their  comrades,  no  matter 
whether  they  were  right  or  wrong,  was  with  them, 
for  they  always  so  expressed  themselves  in  the 
basement  when  such  matters  were  discussed;  but 
now  there  was  a  different  state  of  affairs.  The  boys 
themselves  were  administering  the  punishments,  and 
instead   of  sympathizing  with   the  offenders  they 


210        A   BUNCH    OF    LITTLE    THIEVES 

would  almost  ostracize  him  from  the  society  he  re- 
spected most.  The  law  of  the  gang  was  their  own 
law,  and  they  respected  their  own  laws,  for  who, 
save  a  slave,  respects  any  but  his  own  "gang"  law? 
— laws  that  he,  in  some  direct  or  indirect  way  has 
had  something  to  say  about  in  the  making. 

Early  next  morning  Mr.  Liton  had  an  interview 
with  the  superintendent,  and  then  left  his  office  over- 
joyed. 

"I  am  to  make  out  a  list  for  the  photographic 
materials  at  once,  and  they  will  be  ordered  and  here 
in  a  week,"  he  told  his  friends  in  Miss  Britter's 
office. 

The  teachers  were  very  glad  to  be  assured  of  the 
possibility  of  a  photography  class,  but  the  boys, 
when  informed,  were  more  than  glad.  They  could 
hardly  do  their  work.  It  was  impossible  for  them 
to  direct  their  thoughts  upon  anything  else.  The 
boy  who  was  wheeling  the  rubber  hose  across  the 
lawn  broke  into  a  run  at  sight  of  Mr.  Liton  and  en- 
quired, "Will  I  be  in  the  photographic  class?" 

"Have  you  tried  to  do  what  was  right?  Have 
you  behaved  yourself  in  school?" 

"Yes,  sir;  you  ask  Miss  Cane.  I  get  into  no  trou- 
ble at  all,  and  I  have  had  no  reports  in  the  last 
month." 

"Then  Miss  Cane  will  probably  tell  me  that.  I 
will  take  only  those  who  know  enough  to  do  what 
is  right." 

The  boy  then  ran  off  with  his  hose,  kicking  up 
his  heels  with  delight,  as  he  ran. 

On  their  way  with  ash-cans,  waiting  on  the  steps 
of  the  dining  room,  driving  the  sheep,  going  to  the 
farm,  or  merely  crossing  the  hallway,  wherever  a 


A   BUNCH    OF    LITTLE    THIEVES         211 

boy  happened  to  meet  Mr.  Liton,  there  the  same 
conversation  ensued,  "Am  I  going  to  be  in  the 
photography  class?" 

And  always  they  were  answered,  "If  you  have 
done  the  right  thing,  and  intend  to  keep  on  doing 
what  is  right." 

Two  weeks  followed.  Never  before  had  the  boys 
experienced  feelings  of  hope  and  desire,  as  they 
did  during  those  fourteen  days.  Wonderful  things 
were  in  preparation  and  each  one  wondered  whether 
he  was  going  to  be  a  participator,  and  with  every 
act,  curried  favor.  A  dark  gloomy  coop,  a  sort  of 
musty  attic  on  the  third  floor  of  the  school,  that  for 
many  years  had  imprisoned  and  nurtured  with  the 
horror  of  its  gloom  boy  after  boy,  till  the  walls  and 
floor  upon  which  they  left  their  names  scribbled  with 
jackknife,  or  nail,  or  piece  of  broken  window  pane, 
were  covered  with  a  hieroglyphic  story  of  brutality, 
was  turned  into  a  photographic  dark  room,  and  this 
transformation  unconsciously  wiped  away  half  the 
horror  associated  in  their  minds  with  Abolt  School, 
for  one  of  the  gloomiest  of  all  the  coops  they  feared 
was  no  more.  On  the  two  windows  it  had,  they 
fastened  with  hinges,  two  opaque  wooden  blinds  to 
shut  out  the  light  when  absolute  darkness  was  de- 
sirable. Shelves  were  built,  and  a  ruby  light  was 
installed,  and  the  boys  fought  with  each  other  for 
the  opportunity  to  work  up  there. 

Tiie  council,  anxious  to  prove  its  value,  had  in- 
fluenced a  number  of  boys  who  had  l)een  looked 
upon  as  incorrigibles,  to  behave  themselves,  and 
some  of  these  fellows  so  placed  in  positions  of  trust 
for  the  Republic  that  they  soon  looked  upon  them- 
selves as  highly  important  citizr-ns  of  llic  communi- 


212        A   BUNCH    OF   LITTLE    THIEVES 

ty,  and  saw  to  it,  by  special  acts  of  good  citizenship, 
that  they  were  so  considered  by  others.  The  literary 
committee  gathered  a  vast  amount  of  contributions 
to  the  magazine,  and  with  the  athletic  committee, 
planned  a  great  entertainment  for  their  parents  and 
the  Board  of  Directors. 

The  photographic  materials  came,  and  class  after 
class  was  taken  up  into  the  dark  room  and  allowed  to 
feast  their  eyes  upon  the  most  fascinating  little  cam- 
eras, the  awe-inspiring  big  camera,  and  the  whole 
mysterious  outfit.  Mr.  Liton  explained  the  process 
rapidly  to  each  class  and  set  up  the  large  instrument, 
that  they  might  be  especially  fascinated  by  the  up- 
turned view  of  the  hill  on  the  ground  glass.  What 
an  effect  upon  the  school  that  was.  There  was  no 
other  ambition  in  any  boy's  heart  than,  "to  do  what 
was  right,"  and  become  a  member  of  the  photo- 
graphic class. 

One  Friday  morning,  a  number  of  days  later, 
Mr.  Liton  made  his  way  to  the  superintendent's  cot- 
tage with  a  small  bundle  under  his  arm.  He  rang 
the  bell  and  was  asked  to  come  in  by  the  superin- 
tendent himself,  and  after  Mr.  Krammer  had  com- 
fortably seated  himself  in  his  desk  chair,  Mr.  Liton 
handed  him  a  number  of  copies  of  the  Abolt  School 
Magazine,  anxious  to  see  what  effect  it  was  going  to 
have  upon  him. 

But  he  was  disappointed.  The  superintendent 
did  not  seem  to  be  the  least  enthusiastic. 

"Well,"  he  drawled  out,  "of  course  it  all  depends 
upon  how  they  take  to  it." 

"Don't  you  think  they  ought  to  be  very  happy 
with  so  beautiful  a  magazine?" 


A   BUNCH    OF   LITTLE   THIEVES        213 

"We  don't  know  how  they  will  take  it.  That 
remains  to  be  seen." 

Mr.  Liton  was  disgusted.  There  was  no  excuse 
whatever  for  such  an  attitude.  Instead  of  encourag- 
ing, he  was  discouraging:  if  ever  any  one  was  out 
of  his  province,  he  was. 

"We  shall  give  them  out  at  our  meeting  this 
afternoon,"  said  Mr.  Liton,  coolly,  having  lost  his 
enthusiasm,  "and  we  should  like  to  have  you  present 
and  talk  to  the  boys  about  it.  I  have  arranged  with 
a  number  of  musical  friends  for  their  coming  this 
afternoon  and  playing  for  the  boys.  They  have 
formed  a  quartette  and  play  very  beautifully." 

"Yes,  certainly,  I'll  come,"  said  the  superinten- 
dent, suddenly  enlivened  by  an  idea.  "Are  your 
friends  coming  for  supper?" 

"I  don't  think  so." 

"Well,  I  just  wanted  to  say,  if  they  do  come 
for  supper,  I  would  be  glad  to  entertain  them  at  my 
home  here." 

"I  think  they  will  have  their  dinner  before  they 
come,"  said  Mr.  Liton,  and  left. 

The  musicians  came  that  night  as  they  promised, 
and  when  the  boys,  who  were  gathered  in  the  as- 
sembly room  awaiting  some  great  surprise,  for  this 
feeling  was  prevalent,  saw  the  musicians  file  in 
and  up  the  platform  carrying  a  'cello  and  two  vio- 
lins, they  thought  that  was  the  surprise  and  applaud- 
ed with  fervor. 

The  quartette  played  three  numbers  and  received 
an  ovation  that  bade  fair  to  their  coming  again  and 
again. 

When  the  noise  of  their  approval  died  down, 
the  door  to  the  left  opened  and  Mr.  Liton  entered, 


214        A   BUNCH    OF    LITTLE    THIEVES 

carrying  a  heavy  suit  case.  This  was  a  clue  to 
the  real  surprise  in  store  for  them,  and  every  boy 
solved  the  mystery. 

Mr.  Krammer  entered  and  took  a  seat  in  the  back 
of  the  room,  among  the  cottage  fathers  and  mothers 
that  had  come  to  see  what  it  was  going  to  be  like. 

Mr.  Liton  began  to  speak,  and  every  boy  in  the 
room  ceased  moving.  He  told  them  that,  beautiful 
as  this  first  number  was,  their  magazine  was  going 
to  grow  more  beautiful  and  more  interesting  with 
each  succeeding  number.  He  asked  them  to  con- 
tinue sending  contributions,  and  concluded  by  say- 
ing that  the  magazine  had  so  much  to  say  for  itself 
that  he  felt  it  unnecessary  to  add  any  more,  and 
called  upon  the  representatives  to  come  and  get 
enough  copies  for  each  of  the  boys  in  their  cottages 
and  for  the  cottage  parents. 

Like  the  pressing  of  a  button  in  a  great  shop 
setting  the  machinery  into  motion,  putting  life  into 
a  dead,  silent  factory,  so  the  distribution  of  the  maga- 
zine  set  muscle  and  brain  into  action.  Some  ran 
through  the  pages  eagerly,  some  read  parts  aloud, 
and  others  clapped  hands.  The  little  fellows  who 
found  their  own  names  printed,  for  any  reason 
whatever,  ran  up  to  Mr,  Liton,  pointed  them  out  to 
him,  their  faces  burning  and  their  eyes  flashing. 

Mr.  Liton  walked  along  one  of  the  aisles  to  the 
back  of  the  room  where  the  superintendent  sat,  and 
bending  down  so  that  he  might  hear,  said,  "Would 
you  like  to  speak  to  the  boys,  Mr.  Krammer?" 

Mr.  Krammer  felt  queer,  but  tried  to  hide  his 
feelings.  He  turned  his  face  up,  and  full  of  smiles, 
answered,  "They  don't  want  to  listen  to  me;  they 
are  too  busy,  just  now." 


CHAPTER    XV 

AN  INTERMINABLE  REFORMATION 

Superintendent  Krammer  was  a  disappointed 
man  when  he  awoke  on  Sunday  morning  and  saw 
the  sky  overhung  by  dark,  heavy  clouds.  So  many 
interesting  visitors  were  coming  to  see  the  drill  and 
parade.  Mr.  Liton  was  to  take  a  photograph,  and 
the  photograph  was  to  accompany  an  article  to  be 
written  by  a  newspaper  man  who  was  to  be  one  of 
the  visitors.  The  superintendent  saw  himself  the 
most  important  figure  in  that  picture,  and  thought 
of  the  many  people  that  were  to  see  it.  "You  can't 
pull  such  a  stunt  off  every  Sunday,"  thought  he. 
"If  it  rains  or  snows  to-day,  it  may  never  be  done." 

There  was  one  hopeful  thing  about  those  dark 
gray  clouds.  They  traveled  as  individuals,  and  the 
wind  was  blowing  them  away.    It  might  clear  up. 

And  it  did  clear  up,  the  visitors  did  come,  and 
the  grounds  were  one  great  hive  with  so  many  ex- 
cited bees. 

Each  cottage  had  its  visiting  day.  That  is,  the 
boys  in  each  set  of  three  cottages  could  invite  their 
friends  to  come  and  visit  them  one  Sunday  each 
month.  Cottage  One  with  two  other  cottages  had 
this  Sunday  for  their  friends,  and  Michael,  Dick  and 
Skinny  were  anxiously  awaiting  the  afternoon. 

The  Superintendent  had  issued  strict  orders, 
which  his  trusty  assistants  obeyed,  and  now,  with 
his  specially  interesting  visitors,  he  stood  watching 
the  preparations  for  the  great  parade,  and  telling 
the  wonderful  things  that  were  being  done — of  the 


216        A   BUNCH   OF   LITTLE   THIEVES 

many  boys  who  were  being  reformed  and  the  small 
percentage  that  ever  returned  or  were  ever  sentenced 
to  other  institutions. 

In  the  grove  that  afternoon  were  gathered  the 
many  varieties  of  parents  and  packages.  The  boys 
with  them  were  dressed  in  their  uniforms  and  car- 
ried their  guns  awaiting  the  bugle,  when  they  would 
have  to  leave  them  and  go  on  parade.  Among  the 
queer  groups  of  poorly  dressed  people,  one  could 
see  an  occasional  ostrich  feather  shoot  up  from  some 
woman's  head.  Here,  too,  were  to  be  seen  the  bare 
heads  of  Nida  and  Miss  Britter,  gliding  about  from 
place  to  place,  as  usual. 

Michael's  mother  sat  in  one  corner  questioning 
him.  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Dampfel,  not  far  off,  were  busy 
with  their  beloved  child,  while  Dick's  friends  had  to 
go  to  the  hospital,  where  Dick  was  convalescing  af- 
ter a  very  serious  operation. 

Mrs.  Dampfel  was  engaged  in  her  usual  crying 
and  patting  and  kissing  her  offspring,  and  promis- 
ing him  all  kinds  of  rewards  if  he  behaved  himself 
and  earned  his  parole,  when  Skinny  began  to  com- 
plain plaintively,  "I  don't  feel  good.  This  gun  is 
too  heavy  for  me.    I  am  sick." 

Mrs.  Dampfel,  realizing  her  inability  to  do  any- 
thing for  him,  continued  patting  and  consoling  him. 
"It  won't  take  long.  Then  ask  them  to  let  you  go 
to  bed." 

Miss  Britter  came  along.  Mr.  Dampfel  saw  her 
coming  in  their  direction,  and  he  ran  to  meet  her. 

"My  boy  is  sick,"  he  told  her.  "Can't  he  be  ex- 
cused from  parading  to-day?" 

"Is  that  so?" 


A   BUNCH   OF   LITTLE   THIEVES        217 

Miss  Britter  walked  up  to  where  Skinny  stood 
with  his  mother, 

"Don't  you  feel  good,  Ludwig?"  she  asked.  "What 
is  the  matter?" 

Ludwig  cried,  "I  don't  feel  good.  This  gun  is 
too  heavy  for  me." 

"Well,  you  wait  here  for  me.  I'll  see  that  you 
are  excused." 

She  ran  about  looking  for  the  authorities,  and 
Nida  went  with  her. 

"Oh,  Mr.  Bloate,"  she  cried  upon  seeing  him, 
"may  I  speak  to  you  a  moment?" 

"Certainly,"  said  Mr.  Bloate,  and  smiled. 

"One  of  your  little  fellows  doesn't  feel  well.  Can 
he  be  excused  from  drill  to-day?" 

"Who  is  it?" 

"Ludwig  Dampfel." 

"Skinny?  Don't  you  believe  him.  He's  just  mak- 
ing out  he's  sick.  He  ain't  sick.  He  hasn't  gotten 
over  the  licking  he  got  for  running  away  yet.  That's 
whafs  the  matter  with  him." 

Se^^ing  that  nothing  could  be  done  there,  they 
hurried  off  to  higher  authority. 

"Colonel  Reilly,  I  would  like  to  speak  to  you." 

"Well?" 

"One  of  the  little  fellows  is  sick,  and  cannot 
carry  his  gun.  Can't  he  be  excused  from  drill  to- 
day?" 

"Who  is  sick?" 

"Ludwig  Dampfel." 

"Huh!  Skinny!  Don't  you  believe  it.  Skinny 
isn't  sick.  He  is  the  foxiest  little  fellow  here.  He 
can't  get  over  the  dose  he  got  some  time  ago.  He 
is  the  kind  of  a  kid  that  knows  that  people  will 


218        A   BUNCH    OF   LITTLE   THIEVES 

sympathize  with  him,  and  he  takes  advantage  of 
you.     No,  no.     Every  boy  has  got  to  drill  to-day." 

"But  he  is  ill  and  can't  carry  his  gun." 

"Oh,  never  mind  about  that.  Every  boy's  got  to 
drill  to-day.    Those  are  the  orders." 

"I'll  see  Mr.  Krammer  about  that." 

"See  whom  you  like.  I  don't  see  what  you're  but- 
tin'  in  about  anyway.     This  ain't  your  province." 

Just  then  the  bugle  rang  out,  and  every  boy 
deserted  his  parents  at  once  and  made  for  the  line, 
Skinny  among  them. 

The  parade  was  a  success.  The  newspaper  man 
bubbled  over  with  delight,  and  formulated  his 
thoughts  on  "What  is  being  done  for  the  Delin- 
quent." The  Superintendent  had  exhibited  his  offi- 
cial importance,  and  had  been  photographed,  and  the 
silk-gloved  visitors  had  applauded  with  emotion — 
Skinny  had  dragged  his  feet  along  and  carried  the 
heavy  gun. 

The  parade  had  been  a  success,  and  towards  twi- 
light the  automobiles  turned  down  the  hill  and 
away,  and  the  Superintendent,  his  mind  almost  in- 
toxicated with  the  congratulations  he  had  received 
and  was  receiving,  went  with  them ;  but  Skinny  ate 
no  supper  that  evening.  He  proved  to  his  cottage 
father,  beyond  a  doubt  this  time,  that  he  was  unable 
to  carry  himself  to  the  dining  room,  and  so  was  al- 
lowed to  go  up  into  the  attic  and  sleep  it  ofT  on  the 
cadet's  bed.  His  mother  and  father  worried  into 
hysterics,  caught  Miss  Britter  by  the  arm,  before 
they  left,  and  got  her  promise  to  let  them  know  just 
how  he  felt. 

It  was  seven  o'clock  that  evening,  when  the  win- 
ter day  had  expired  and  the  early  night  had  settled 


A    BUXGH    OF    LITTLE    THIEVES         219 

down  upon  the  hill,  biting  cold  and  clear,  that  Miss 
Britter,  Miss  Cane,  Mr.  Rolan,  and  Mr.  Liton,  on 
their  way  for  a  walk,  passed  Cottage  One,  saw  the 
light  in  the  cadet's  room,  and  heard  a  sobbing  and 
a  wailing  that  was  heart-rending  coming  from  it. 

They  rushed  to  the  door  and  rang  the  bell. 

"Skinny's  got  a  little  fever,"  said  Father  Bloate, 
in  answer  to  their  question,  "that's  all.". 

"May  we  come  in  to  see  him?" 

"Wliat  for?" 

"May  I  go  up  to  see  him?" 

"What  does  anybody  have  to  go  up  to  see  him 
for?  He's  got  a  little  fever,  and  my  wife's  doing 
all  that  needs  to  be  done  for  him." 

By  this  time  the  moaning  became  more  painful 
to  hear,  and  Miss  Britter  became  desperate. 

"If  you  don't  let  me  go  up  to  see  that  child,  I 
shall  go  to  the  village  at  once  and  get  a  constable." 

Mr.  Bloate  burning  with  rage,  flung  the  door 
open  and  walked  in.  Miss  Britter  and  Nida  rushed 
up  stairs,  while  the  boys  waited  for  them. 

The  window  above  flew  open  soon  after,  and 
Miss  Britter  put  out  her  head  and  called  down, 
"Boys,  please  run  to  Abolt  at  once  and  summon  Dr. 
Wood  and  a  nurse,  if  possible." 

The  boys  made  off  for  the  village,  and  Miss 
Britter,  Nida,  and  Mrs.  Bloate,  sat  about  the  bed  on 
which  poor  little  Skinny,  in  high  fever,  extolled  the 
beauty  of  the  parade  in  terms  no  newspaper  man 
could  make  use  of. 

He  was  in  delirium.  He  had  paraded  that  after- 
noon, and  he,  too,  had  enjoyed  the  spectacle,  and 
his  eulogy  rose  into  the  room  and  out  high  into  the 
air. 


220        A   BUNCH   OF   LITTLE   THIEVES 

"Oh,  please  don"t  hit  me,"  he  cried,  and  begged 
and  pleaded.  "I  can't  carry  that  gun— please 
— please  don't  hit  me— please  don't  hit  me — I  can't 
carry  that  gun— Oh,  oh,  my  shoulder— oh,  my 
shoulder— I  can't  carry  that  gun— please  don't  hit 
me — I  can't  carry  that  gun." 

The  women  applied  cold  water  to  the  burning 
little  forehead;  then,  unable  to  do  any  more,  sat  back 
upon  the  chairs  which  Father  Bloate  had  ordered 
one  of  his  boys  to  take  up,  and  cried. 

The  cadet's  room  was  an  unfmished  age-stained 
attic,  with  its  age-stained  rafters  projecting  from  the 
ceiling,  and  supporting  spider's  webs  and  the  pic- 
ture postals  that  the  meditating  William  had  hung 
upon  them.  In  this  little  room,  upon  the  very  bed 
upon  which  his  fellow  unfortunate  was  burning 
away,  unconscious,  he  had  often  sat  and  admired 
his  postals  and  the  narrow  little  world  in  which  he 
alone  of  all  the  rest  had  a  kind  of  freedom.  Wil- 
liam was  not  there,  but  his  better  half,  the  better 
half  that  all  of  us  show  when  we  are  alone,  sur- 
rounded by  four  wooden  walls,  in  a  narrow,  light- 
less  space,  hovered  about  everywhere,  in  every  cor- 
ner in  which  he  had  a  bat  or  a  box  for  letters  or  a 
pile  of  books.  This  was  his  little  nook,  and  here  he 
never  was  called  upon  to  kick  any  one.  He  was 
not  here  now,  nor  was  he  going  to  be  here  this 
night  nor  the  next.     He  slept  in  Skinny's  bed. 

The  doctor  came,  commented  on  the  height  of 
the  fever,  and  left  a  dose  of  medicine  and  a  nurse. 

Two  nights  and  a  day  the  child  lay  upon  that 
little  bed,  and  begged  and  pleaded.  Oh,  that  his 
poor  little  prayers,  so  much  believed  in  then,  might 
have  been  answered  before.    When  once  death  de- 


A   BUNCH   OF   LITTLE   THIEVES        221 


cides  to  come,  it  makes  no  difTerence  how  young 
the  little  sinner  or  how  unfair  fate  had  been  to  him, 
how  little  of  joy  or  how  much  of  misery  and  pain 
have  been  his  reward  for  living — death  comes! 

The  human  bundle  of  sticks,  ashes,  and  flame, 
of  bone,  skin,  and  fever,  was  removed  to  the  hospital, 
and  the  decrepit  father  and  mother  came  to  bend 
still  more  their  crooked  backs,  to  watch  him — to 
pray  that  his  life  remain  and  sufTering  continue. 
But  prayers  were  useless.  The  jovial  Mr.  Sarving 
sat  near  them  reading  a  funny  page  of  a  magazine, 
occasionally  commanding  that  the  old  couple  stop 
yelling,  often  snoring  away  in  sleep,  till  the  death 
rattle  closed  the  little  throat,  stretched  out  the  weary 
little  legs  and  removed  the  heavy  gun  from  his  child- 
ish shoulders,*  Then  the  nurse  stretched  his  limbs 
and,  yawning,  covered  the  little  body  with  a  cloth, 
and  conducted  the  old  couple  out  doors,  where  the 
world  was  white,  where  all  night  long  had  fallen 
thick  and  playfully  myriads  of  large  flakes,  and 
hidden  the  bare  earth,  the  bare  trees,  and  the  hard 
edges  of  the  institution. 

They  trailed  past  the  grove  where  they  had  seen 
him  last,  stopped  one  moment;  then  the  old  man 
himself,  grown  more  gray  in  this  single  night,  took 
the  mother  by  the  arm  and  hurried  past  the  school 
and  out  upon  the  road  towards  the  railroad  station 
in  Abolt, 

When  they  reached  the  valley  below  they  heard 
the  bugle  call,  awaking  so  many,  yet  unable  to  wake 


♦For  a  report  of  similar  cases  see  newspaper  articles  In 
appendix. 


222        A    BUNCH    OF    LITTLE    THIEVES 

one  more.  The  little  bugler's  voice  called  out  loud 
and  long,  pulled  them  all  but  one  from  their  beds, 
and  buried  itself  in  the  newly  fallen  snow. 

One  less  to  reform!    One  interminably  reformed! 


CHAPTER    XVI 

THE  BATTLE  LOST 

Skinny  left  a  gloomy  spell  upon  the  place.  His 
little  body  was  packed  into  a  small  pine  cofTm  and 
was  sent  to  the  home  he  had  longed  to  see  and  hoped 
still  to  enjoy.  The  entire  week  was  marked  by  ex- 
ceptionally bad  weather.  It  snowed  still  more,  and 
for  a  few  hours  twice  that  week  rain  came  down 
and  the  saturated  snow  hardened  into  ice.  The 
boys  wore  corduroy  in  place  of  their  canvas  suits, 
and  were  very  cold  and  miserable,  and  acted  accord- 
ingly. Neither  the  Principal  nor  her  teachers  were 
able  to  work  as  they  had  worked  before.  Miss  Cane, 
who  had  helped  by  sitting  up  nights  with  the  dying 
child,  was  again  sick  in  bed.  The  cheerless  sky  it- 
self seemed  to  hold  out  over  the  hill  an  impending 
calamity,  and  with  throbbing  pulses  all  seemed  to 
feel  it.  Colonel  Reilly  and  his  staff  of  officers  re- 
sented the  effect  of  the  death  of  poor  Skinny  upon 
the  boys  as  a  whole,  and  determined  to  beat  that  out 
of  them.  There  was  almost  a  continual  yelling  and 
crying  coming  from  some  corner  of  the  institution 
— a  boy's  ear  lobes  were  jerked  into  bleeding, 
several  eyes  were  blacked,  one  lip  was  swollen,  and 
one  fellow  was  struck  on  the  wrist  with  a  mop 
stick,  and  his  hand  was  temporarily  made  useless. 
The  place  assumed,  more  and  more  each  day  the 
aspect  of  a  slaughter  house,*  and  Mr.  Liton  made 


*" ,    13    years    of   age,    received    at    the 

hospital,   November  22,   1912,   with   severe  contusions  of  the 
face  whicn  he  said  he  received  by  being  struclt  in  the  face 


224        A   BUNCH    OF   LITTLE    THIEVES 

a  desperate  attempt  to  put  an  end  to  those  conditions. 

It  was  on  Sunday,  exactly  a  week  after  little 
Skinny  took  his  leave,  that  he  went  to  the  city  to 
talk  the  matter  over  with  a  lawyer  friend  of  his, 
and  incidentally  went  to  see  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Dampfel 
in  their  tiny  flat  in  the  slums.  It  was  hard  to  find. 
After  stumbling  about  a  number  of  dark  corridors, 
and  receiving  a  number  of  directions  from  a  number 
of  strange  people,  he  rapped  on  a  door  that  was 
opened  by  the  now  aged  Mr.  Dampfel.  The  old 
man  shook  his  head  as  a  greeting  and  ushered  him 
into  the  room  that  served  as  a  kitchen,  dining  room, 
sitting  room,  and  possibly,  drawing  room.  It  was 
neatly  kept  and  in  its  decoration  revealed  a  touch  of 
the  artistic.  In  the  center  stood  a  small  table  spread 
with  a  white  clean  table  cloth  and  covered  with  all 
the  finest  dishes  the  old  lady  possessed.  It  was  ready 
for  a  feast. 

The  gas-light  was  lit,  though  it  was  day  time 
out  doors,  and  for  a  few  seconds  Mr.  Liton  could  see 
nothing,  having  come  from  dark  corridors,  but  as 
soon  as  his  eyes  became  accustomed  to  the  change 
in  light,  he  saw  the  old  woman  seated  on  the  other 
side  of  the  table  and  somewhat  apart  from  it, 
knitting.  She  knitted  away  with  exceptional  rapid- 
ity, apparently  in  the  best  of  spirits,  and  the  old 
man,  who  had  resumed  his  seat  near  the  door,  was 
carefully  watching  her.  Every  few  minutes  she 
would  throw  the  thing  she  was  loiitting  upon  a 


with  a  butcher  knife;        ........ 

,   16   years   old,   alleged   to   have   been 

struck  on  the  head  with  a  shovel  by  a  keeper  June  9,  1912, 

treated   by ,   a   nurse,    while   Dr.   

was    away." — Philadelphia    Inquirer,    February    21, 


1913,  in  an  article  discussing  reformatory   complaints. 


A   BUNCH    OF   LITTLE   THIEVES        225 

chair  near  her,  stretch,  walk  to  the  clock  that  ticked 
away  on  a  mantel  piece,  look  at  it  carefully  and 
long,  and  return  to  her  former  position  and  occu- 
pation. 

"She's  mad,"  said  Mr.  Dampfel,  shrugging  his 
shoulders  and  pointing  his  thumb  at  her.  "She  has 
prepared  a  feast  for  Luddy  and  expects  him  home 
any  moment.     She  says  he's  paroled." 

At  sound  of  the  last  word  she  jumped  up  again 
and,  in  spite  of  the  old  man's  objections,  demanded 
of  the  stranger,  "Haven't  you  seen  Luddy?  He's 
coming  home  to-day." 

"We're  to  send  her  away,"  murmured  the  old 
man,  when  asked  as  to  the  fate  of  his  wife.  "I  ex- 
pect them  here  for  her  every  minute." 

Poor  Mr.  Dampfel,  he  didn't  know  just  exactly 
what  he  was  going  to  do  about  himself.  They  had 
come  from  Germany  many  years  ago  and  had  no 
friends  in  this  country  at  all,  "About  the  best  thing 
I  can  do  now,"  he  guessed,  "is  to  die." 

Suddenly  a  shriek  escaped  the  woman,  that  made 
things  dance  before  Mr.  Liton's  eyes.  He  rose,  un- 
certain as  to  what  was  best  to  be  done.  The  woman 
had  thrown  down  the  material  she  had  been  work- 
ing on  and  jumped  up,  tearing  her  hair.  Another 
shriek  escaped  her  more  terrible  than  the  first, 
and  simultaneously  with  it,  to  the  relief  of  the  old 
man  as  well  as  Mr.  Liton,  the  door  flew  open  and 
two  men  in  uniforms,  accompanied  by  a  policeman, 
rushed  in  and  grabbed  her. 

It  was  an  awful  struggle;  the  men  fought  with 
her  for  a  few  minutes  then  finally  conquered  her, 
bound  her  hands  and  feet,  and  paying  no  attention 
to  her  screaming  and  tugging,  carried  her  below, 


226        A   BUNCH    OF   LITTLE   THIEVES 

and  put  her  into  the  ambulance  and  dashed  off  with 
her. 

Mr.  Liton  with  Mr.  Dampfel  had  followed  them 
below,  but  as  they  reached  the  hallway  on  the 
ground  floor,  the  old  man  saw  the  great  crowd  that 
had  gathered  before  the  building.  Without  saying 
a  word  to  Mr.  Liton,  who  was  anxious  to  get  out 
into  the  open,  he  hastily  retraced  his  steps  back 
into  his  shattered  home.  It  was  the  last  Mr.  Liton 
ever  saw  of  him.  He  rushed  out  upon  the  street  and 
on  to  his  friend's,  lest  he,  too,  lose  his  mind. 

"There  is  nothing  to  be  done,"  his  legal  advisor 
informed  him.  "These  things  are  controlled  by 
powers  you  can't  meddle  with.  Liton,  I'm  sorry  to 
tell  you  so,  but  it  is  true,  nevertheless,  your  battle 
is  lost,  and,  as  a  friend  of  yours,  I'd  advise  you  to 
leave  and  forget  about  it.  There  is  not  a  paper  in 
this  city  save  perhaps  a  socialistic  or  anarchistic 
paper,  that  will  print  your  story,  and  I  don't  care 
how  much  they  prate  about  being  the  friends  of 
children  and  so  forth.  There  are  a  number  of  mem- 
bers of  the  board  of  directors  of  your  institution 
who  advertise,  department  stores  and  other  kinds  of 
stores,  in  every  paper  of  any  value  in  the  city,  and 
no  paper  will  tell  the  truth  about  anything  that 
an  advertiser  is  interested  in.  You  try  it  and  you'll 
find  it  so.  I'm  talking  from  experience.  If  they 
don't  succeed  in  proving  before  the  public  in  the 
very  newspapers  that  claim  to  be  the  friends  of 
children  that  you  are  incapable,  they  will  get  plenty 
of  witnesses  to  prove  that  you  are  insane,  and  if  they 
can't  prove  that,  they  will  at  least  have  succeeded 
in  blacklisting  you  so  that  no  other  school  will  have 
any  faith  in  you.    Just  one  year  ago,  the  only  cour- 


A   BUNCH    OF   LITTLE   THIEVES        227 

ageously  honest  nurse  of  an  institution  for  the  in- 
firm brought  charges  of  the  most  gruesome  sort 
against  that  institution,  and  most  of  the  people  con- 
nected with  it  knew  that  every  word  she  uttered  was 
truth  itself,  yet,  after  a  mock  trial,  before  boards  of 
directors  and  investigating  committees,  and  with 
the  help  of  doctors  of  renown,  she  was  found  to  be 
insane,  and  is  now  reported  as  dying  in  an  asylum." 

Mr.  Liton  listened  carefully  to  every  word  his 
friend  uttered  and  ran  his  hand  through  his  hair 
a  number  of  times  as  if  in  despair.  His  friend 
watched  him,  beginning  to  feel  that  he  had  con- 
vinced him,  when  Mr.  Liton  suddenly  arose,  grabbed 
his  hat,  and  started  for  the  door, 

"I  shall  not  leave,"  he  said,  "I  am  going  to  win 
that  battle  right  there  on  the  grounds." 

It  was  three  o'clock  the  next  morning  when  he 
boarded  the  first  train  going  to  Abolt.  The  city  was 
steeped  in  the  long  winter  night,  and  the  wind 
blew  hard  through  the  streets.  The  sky  was  clear 
and  studded  with  stars,  while  the  belated  moon  still 
cut  its  brilliant  shape  above  a  towering  skyscraper. 

The  car  he  boarded  contained  a  number  of  half- 
dozing  workingmen,  and  he  took  his  seat  as  one  of 
them,  cleaning  the  frost-covered  window  pane,  that 
he  might  look  out  upon  the  retreating  city.  At  every 
station,  he  could  sec  many  workers,  carrying  tin 
pails,  already  going  to  their  work,  and  very  often 
children  went  with  them. 

By  the  time  he  reached  Abolt  the  dawn  had  wiped 
out  the  night,  and  the  wintry  landscape,  the  woods 
and  homes  sparkled  in  the  light, and  the  snow  ground 
beneath  his  feet.  He  made  his  way  up  the  old  hill, 
as  he  had  done  countless  times,  but  new  feelings 


228        A   BUNCH    OF   LITTLE   THIEVES 

greeted  him  now.  He  was  worn  out  for  lack  of 
sleep,  yet  fully  aroused  by  the  forced  exercise;  and, 
when  the  smell  of  breakfast  coffee  from  the  dining 
room  greeted  his  nostrils,  a  feeling  of  hope  came 
over  him.  Every  thing  seemed  very  quiet  and  peace- 
ful. The  night  wind  had  subsided,  and  the  smoke 
from  the  chimneys  wound  up  slowly  and  gracefully. 
It  was  apparent  that  the  cold  weather  was  going  to 
relent,  and  with  it  the  hard  spirit  on  the  grounds 
between  teachers  and  cottage  parents,  officers  and 
pupils.  But  when  Mr.  Liton  stood  before  his  class 
that  morning  he  knew  that  something  was  wrong. 

They  were  having  a  lesson  in  algebra.  He  had 
given  the  boys  a  problem,  and  they  were  at  work 
trying  to  solve  it.  One  of  his  boys  suddenly  rose 
from  his  seat,  walked  up  to  his  instructor  and  hand- 
ed him  a  sealed  envelope.  Not  wishing  to  take  the 
boys'  time  to  read  what  was  in  it,  he  placed  it  in 
his  desk.  But  it  bothered  him.  Finally  he  decided 
to  read  it  at  once,  and  putting  a  number  of  problems 
on  the  board  asked  his  pupils  to  do  all  of  them  and 
took  the  envelope  out  again.    It  read — 

"Dear  Mr.  Liton: 

I  want  to  ask  if  I  can  resign  my 
job  as  president  of  Cottage  One.  It  has  only  gotten 
me  into  trouble.  Yesterday  evening  we  had  a  meet- 
ing. While  we  were  planning  lots  of  things.  Michael 
Roate,  our  representative,  got  up  and  said  that  he 
heard  that  Cottage  Fathor  Saunders  laughed  at  our 
magazine  and  our  republic.  He  said  that  Mr.  Saun- 
ders did  that  before  the  magazine  was  published, 
and  that  after  he  saw  the  magazine  he  said  to  a 
few  boys  that  the  boys  didn't  write  their  own  stuff, 
but  that  they  stole  it  from  books,  and  that  none  of 
it  was  theirs.    This  made  him  and  the  boys  mad, 


A   BUNCH    OP   LITTLE   THIEVES        229 


and  they  voted  it  should  be  told  the  council,  and 
that  the* council  should  tell  that  to  Mr.  Krammer. 

"Now,  when  we  first  had  that  meeting  I  asked 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Bloate  to  come  in  and  even  preside 
over  the  meeting  if  they  wanted  to,  but  they  didn't 
want  to,  and  Mr.  Bloate  was  a  little  drunk,  too. 
Please,  Mr.  Liton,  don't  let  anyone  see  this  letter  be- 
cause they'll  kill  me  for  it.  Instead  of  coming  in 
with  us  to  stay  at  the  meeting,  he  went  into  the 
sewing  room  by  the  other  door  and  lay  down  by  the 
door  going  into  the  sitting  room,  where  we  were, 
and  listened.  Michael  had  just  finished,  after  we 
voted  to  tell  Mr.  Krammer,  saying  that  if  Mr.  Saun- 
ders called  us  liars  and  thieves  that  we  should  call 
him  a  liar  and  thief  and  drunkard;  when  Mr.  Bloate 
opened  the  door  and  ran  in  on  us,  broke  up  the  meet- 
ing, and  hit  Michael  and  some  of  the  other  boys,  and 
made  us  all  go  down  stairs.  I  wanted  to  show  him 
the  minutes  and  ask  him  why  he  was  mad,  but 
he  only  struck  me  on  the  mouth. 

"Then  he  Vk^ent  to  Mr.  Krammer,  and  Mr.  Kram- 
mer called  for  Michael  and  gave  him  a  big  beating 
and  transferred  him  to  Mr.  Saunders'  cottage,  and 
now  because  Michael  said  that  about  Mr.  Saunders, 
Mr.  Saunders  will  revenge  upon  him  plenty. 

"Mr.  Liton,  please,  I  don't  want  to  be  any  more 
president  and  get  lickings  for  it  and  reports.  I  want 
to  keep  still  after  this,  take  everything,  and  just  wait 
for  the  chance  to  get  out  of  here. 

Your  friend, 

SAM    PHELPS." 

Mr.  Liton  was  beside  himself  with  anger.  The 
boys  saw  him  read  the  letter  and  knew  why  he  was 
so  excited. 

At  noon  he  rusliod  into  the  office. 

"Yes,  there  was  coiisidcrablc  h'ouble  there  last 


230        A   BUNCH   OF   LITTLE   THIEVES 

night,"  said  Mr.  Krammer,  when  the  matter  was  laid 
before  him. 

"But  have  you  investigated  thoroughly,  Mr. 
Krammer?" 

"To  my  satisfaction." 

"What  have  you  concluded?" 

"That  the  republic  business  is  not  a  thing  for 
an  institution  like  this.  I  have  been  in  this  business 
twenty  years,  Mr.  Liton,  twenty  years,  and  I  know 
boys  of  this  sort  better  than  you  do.  I  know  what 
the  truth  is  no  matter  what  a  boy  may  be  telling 
you.  They  can't  manage  a  republic,  and  I  can't 
bother  with  the  troubles  that  follow.  I  have  a  new 
scheme,  though.  Suppose  we  start  an  entirely  new 
affair.  Say  we  have  each  cottage  represented  and 
once  a  month  have  a  meeting  at  my  house  or  in  the 
school  building,  or  in  my  office,  and  provide  re- 
freshments for  the  occasion.  Every  meeting  will  be 
a  sort  of  festival,  and  the  boys  will  be  willing  to 
behave  themselves  a  whole  month  to  be  able  to 
get  into  this  meeting." 

"That  means,  of  course,  that  that  ends  the  re- 
public?" 

"Yes,  I  think  it's  better." 

Mr.  Liton  had  nothing  more  to  say,  and  was 
about  to  leave  the  room  when  the  Superintendent 
called  him  back.  Mr.  Liton  was  weary  from  the 
lack  of  sleep  and  the  turn  in  affairs,  and  evidently 
was  not  in  fighting  spirit,  even  if  he  was  in  the 
mood.  Mr.  Krammer  having  felt  the  joy  of  the  vic- 
tory, thought  this  was  his  opportunity  for  putting 
an  end  to  the  whole  aggravating  business. 

"There  was  something  else  I  wanted  to  speak  to 
you  about,  Mr.  Liton,  and  I  might  as  well  do  it 


A   BUNCH    OF   LITTLE   THIEVES        231 

now.  Eh,  somebody — was  telling  me — eh,  that  you, 
eh,  have  made  preparations  for  the  printing  of  the 
second  number  of  the  magazine.  You  understand, 
of  course,  that  so  far  I  have  sanctioned  the  print- 
ing of  the  first  only.  I  wanted  to  see  the  effect  it 
would  have  on  the  board  and  on  the  boys — an  ex- 
periment, you  see.  Now  I  shall  present  a  copy  of 
the  first  number  to  the  board  and  if,  in  their  esti- 
mation, it  is  worth  while,  let  them  provide  a  fund 
for  the  purpose." 

"But,  Mr.  Krammer,  you  told  me  that  you  v/ould 
contribute  ten  dollars  a  month,  and  then  had  the 
boys  vote  as  to  whether  they  wished  to  have  the 
monthly  good  behavior  money  used  to  make  up  the 
other  fifteen  dollars.  I  had  no  desire  to  work  as  I 
did  to  get  out  only  one  issue. 

"You  are  mistaken,  Mr.  Liton.  I  never  ofTered 
you  ten  dollars  a  month.  I  can't  afford  that.  I 
merely  thought  that  that  would  go  to  the  publica- 
tion of  a  single  number  as  an  experiment,  and  if 
it  proved  worth  while,  that  we  would  be  able  to 
interest  some  of  the  members  of  the  board." 

"Mr.  Krammer,  are  you  still  doubtful  as  to  wheth- 
er it  is  worth  while  or  not?" 

"I  am  not,  but  the  board  probably  will  be." 
"I  have  several  letters  in  my  room  as  contribu- 
tions from  the  boys,  which  proves  very  conclusively 
that  the  magazine  has  had  a  great  infiuence  on  them, 
and  that  to  withhold  it  this  month  would  mean  a 
loss  of  faith  in  it,  and — why  boys  will  be  mourning 
for  it.  I  have  one  letter  where  a  boy  tells  that  he 
has  formed  a  partnersiiip  with  anutlior  boy  for  the 
purpose  of  writing  stories  every  evening.  Both  think 
them  up  and  both  spend  their  time  writing  what 


232        A   BUNCH    OF   LITTLE   THIEVES 

they  think.  You  know  what  a  problem  it  is  to  keep 
boys  from  doing  and  thinking  the  wrong  tilings, 
evenings." 

"Well,  that  letter  is  a  good  one.  Keep  them  all 
and  when  I  have  the  board  here  as  visitors  I  will 
speak  to  them  about  it,  and  you  can  then  show  the 
letters  and  help  me  get  them  interested." 

An  expression  of  despair  spread  over  Mr.  Liton's 
face,  for  he  began  to  realize  how  impossible  it  was 
for  him  to  work  with  that  management  of  the  in- 
stitution, and,  as  that  feeling  deepened  on  his  face, 
the  Superintendent  seemed  to  grow  more  lively  and 
enthusiastic.  His  scheme  was  working  beyond  his 
expectations. 

Mr.  Liton  left  the  office. 

"The  best  thing  we  can  do,"  said  Miss  Britter, 
when  at  three  that  afternoon,  they  were  on  their  way 
to  Abolt  and  discussing  the  matter,  "is  to  resign. 
They  are  too  strong  for  us.  We  can  never  get  them 
all  out,  and  it  is  impossible  for  us  to  accomplish 
anything  while  they  are  here.  This  noon,  when  I 
saw  Miss  Brand  and  Miss  Greet  in  a  very  happy 
and  secretive  conversation  with  Colonel  Reilly  and 
Bloate,  I  knew  that  something  was  up," 

"Certainly,"  said  Nida  Cane,  who  had  come  along 
under  the  protest  of  her  friends,  who  thought  she 
should  have  stayed  in  bed,  "Miss  Brand  will  be  made 
principal,  and  Miss  Greet  will  be  made  spiritual  ad- 
viser, and  it  will  be  just  grand.  As  for  me  I  don't 
care  any  more  what  happens.  I  want  to  get  out  as 
soon  as  I  can,  or  I'll  go  as  poor  Luddy  went." 

They  came  dov^.-i  to  the  village  station  with  a 
feeling  within  them  that  the  scenery  that  had  be- 
come a  part  of  their  little  world  was  soon  to  pass 


A   BUNCH    OF   LITTLE   THIEVES        233 

away.  This,  as  they  looked  about  the  snow-covered 
trees  and  shrubbery  and  fences,  was  a  little  world, 
and  they  were  about  to  die  from  it.  They  looked  at 
everything  with  emotions  of  farewell  and  regret — 
the  station,  the  grocery  store,  where  they  had  bought 
milk  and  crackers  and  cocoa  so  often;  the  ice  cream 
parlor,  with  its  queer  yet  familiar  tables  and  chairs 
and  pictures,  where  they  had  spent  so  many  pleasant 
hours;  the  picturesque  roadway  that  led  to  Hilldale, 
with  its  brilliantly  lighted  streets  and  stores,  where 
they  had  eaten  so  many  dinners,  over  which  they 
had  laughed  and  talked  and  argued;  and  the  road- 
way to  the  other  and  higher  hill,  with  its  monastery 
towers  and  celestial  view,  which  they  now  called 
Tower  Hill. 

They  waited  at  the  station,  as  they  had  waited 
many  times  before,  and  as  happened  each  time,  but 
never  so  significantly,  the  train  on  its  way  to  the 
city  drew  in,  stopped  a  moment,  then  pulled  out 
again,  taking  them  with  it. 

They  went  to  the  house  of  a  friend  who  had  a 
typewriter,  and  immediately  set  to  work  to  draw  up 
a  letter  to  the  board. 

They  pointed  out  very  clearly  and  concretely  that 
the  morals  of  the  school  were  corrupt;  that  indecent 
men  and  women  were  employed,  who  brutally 
ruined  tlieir  boys'  chances  of  reform,  who  made  ob- 
stacles of  themselves  whenever  an  attempt  was  made 
to  morally  uplift  them,  and  who  criminally  beat  and 
abused  them;  that  men  and  women  were  among  the 
stafT  who  came  home  drunk,  and  were  immoral.  In- 
stancr's  of  wrongdoing  and  abuse  were  given,  and 
affidavits  offered  to  prove  them. 


234        A    BUNCH    OF    LITTLE    THIEVES 

"We  are  convinced,"  they  wrote  in  conclusion, 
"that  it  is  impossible  for  us  to  go  on  trying  to  help 
them  unless  some  attempt  is  made  to  investigate  and 
then  to  change  the  conditions  that  are  making  our 
working  for  the  boys  impossible.  Every  attempt 
either  to  educate  or  to  train  the  boys  in  the  right 
direction  has  been  baffled.  We  hold  that  the  boys 
who  come  to  a  reform  school  do  so  largely  because 
of  a  lack  of  appreciation  of  the  law,  as  agreement 
between  people  for  the  good  of  all,  and  that  to  help 
them  acquire  that  appreciation  they  must  be  given 
the  chance  to  feel  the  necessity  for  law  and  then  to 
make  that  law,  and  finally  to  respect  it.  We  started 
a  republic  that  worked  beautifully  and  was  carrying 
us  on  the  road  to  that  great  accomplishment.  Be- 
cause a  cottage  father,  who  is  seldom  free  from  in- 
toxication, came  in  and  broke  up  a  cottage  meeting, 
the  Superintendent,  without  investigation  as  to  the 
cause,  has  destroyed  the  republic. 

"We  started  a  magazine.  The  response  on  the 
part  of  the  boys  was  most  hopeful.  They  went  wild 
about  it,  and  it  was  worth  such  excitement  as  you 
will  see  by  the  enclosed  copy.  By  plots  which  we 
can  make  clear  to  any  investigator,  that  was  dis- 
continued. 

"In  view  of  these  facts,  and  the  many  more  which 
we  can  lay  before  the  board  when  they  are  desirous 
of  having  us  do  so,  you  will  see  that  unless  the  con- 
ditions are  changed  to  an  extent,  at  least,  we  are 
useless  here.  Please  advise  us  as  soon  as  possible 
what  we  may  hope  for." 

Each  one  signed  the  document,  and  it  was  regis- 
tered and  posted. 


A   BUNCH    OF   LITTLE    THIEVES        235 

"I  don't  care  whether  they  will  sympathize  with 
us  or  not,"  said  Mr.  Liton,  "they  must  investigate  in 
the  face  of  such  charges." 

The  secretary  of  the  board  was  a  friend  of  the 
Superintendent.  He  read  the  letter  and  answered  it 
immediately.  Mr.  Liton's  hopes  that  the  facts  they 
presented  in  that  letter  would  stir  the  board  to  some 
kind  of  action  proved  groundless.  Hardly  a  day 
and  a  half  passed  before  a  reply  was  received. 

"After  careful  consideration,"  said  the  letter,  "we 
conclude  that  the  facts  presented  warrant  no  action 
on  our  part.*  We  are  sure  that  the  Superintendent 
will  adjust  these  matters." 

"I  told  you  that  they  will  do  nothing,"  said  Nida. 
"I  know  them,  every  one  of  them.  They  are  a  set 
of  busy  men  and  leave  all  these  matters  to  a  few 
individuals  with  whom  Krammer  has  business  re- 
lations, and  who  have  become  his  personal  friends." 

"There  is  only  one  thing  that  we  can  do  now," 
said  Liton. 

"Resign!" 

"Do  you  agree,  Rolan?" 

"I  certainly  do." 

Mr.  Liton  brought  his  typewriter  into  his  class 
room,  and  the  resignation  was  written. 


♦"This   statement  was  made   by  Mr.  after  the 

meeting:  'We  examined  several  witnesses  and  heard  all 
charges.  I  saw  no  evidence  of  irregularity  on  the  part  of 
any  official  of  the  institution.  There  were  about  five  charges 
in  all.     We  heard  the  boys  and  we  heard  the  officials  named. 

We  also  heard  Mr.  .     There  was  no  evidence  against 

any  of  the  officials.' Mr. 

would    make  no   effort   to   reconcile  his   conflicting 

statements  as  to  the  authority  of  the  committee,  which,  he 
said  was  not  empowered  to  hear  charges,  yet  which  did  hear 
them  according  to  his  own  admission." — Philadelphia  Times, 
Feb.  20,  1913. 


236        A   BUNCH    OF   LITTLE   THIEVES 

"I  am  still  of  the  opinion,"  said  Mr.  Liton,  stop- 
ping the  noisy  keys  for  a  moment,  "that  when  they 
realize  that  we  are  very  serious,  they  will  do  some- 
thing. Surely  they  don't  want  the  trouble  that  would 
follow  our  going  away.  I  am  going  to  write  this  so 
that  they  feel  that  we  do  not  want  to  leave,  that  we 
will  be  glad  to  go  on  working  if  they  only  make  it 
possible  for  us,  but  that  if  they  have  no  desire  to 
change  the  conditions  we  complain  of,  or  even  to 
investigate  our  charges,"  he  swung  back  into  posi- 
tion and  went  on  writing  and  when  he  reached  the 
last  sentence,  cried  out,  "We  ask  you  to  consider  this 
our  joint  resignation." 

This,  too,  was  signed  by  the  four  of  them,  and 
they  started  for  the  post  office  to  register  and  post 
as  before. 

They  had  their  dinner  again  at  the  restaurant  at 
Hilldale,  and  returned  very  late  that  night;  and  as 
they  came  upon  the  grounds  and  stopped  a  moment 
to  look  over  the  vistas  towards  the  right  and  left, 
glorified  by  the  silent  night,  the  moon,  the  stars,  and 
snow,  a  feehng  of  despair  came  over  them.  "What 
if  it  is  accepted?" 

One  day  of  suspension  followed — suspension  so 
heavy  that  it  was  impossible  to  work  under  it.  But 
the  day  wore  away  and  a  letter  at  the  post  office 
broke  that  suspension  with  a  little  sentence  of  half 
a  dozen  unmistakable  words:  "Your  joint  resigna- 
tion is  hereby  accepted." 

"Surely  you  will  give  me  a  week's  time,"  cried 
Superintendent  Krammer,  with  the  air  of  one  who 
deserved  at  least  that  much  courtesy. 

"We  will  give  you  a  few  days,  and  no  more.  We 
are  out  of  place  now  and  the  sooner  we  can  go,  the 
better  for  you." 


CHAPTER   XVII 

TWILIGHT     DEEPENS     INTO     NIGHT 

The  sun  broke  out  again  over  the  hill  and  brought 
a  new  and  warmer  day,  and  before  half  of  it  was 
spent,  much  of  the  snow  had  melted  and  passed 
away  in  streamlets  down  its  rugged  sides.  From 
the  cottage  roofs  the  drops  fell  and  dug  into  the  re- 
maining snow  beneath,  and  when  evening  came 
these  drops  hardened  into  icicles,  as  if  a  few  of 
them  had  huddled  together  to  sleep  through  the 
night;  and  when  the  next  day  the  sun  rose  still 
warmer,  and  the  snow  melted  still  more,  and  the 
streamlets  ran  faster  and  fuller,  nature  had  blessed 
the  hill  with  a  beauty  that  was  magnetic;  but  with 
all  its  power  it  could  not  tear  away  the  gloom  that 
had  fallen  upon  the  place. 

Miss  Britter  walked  into  Nida's  room  to  talk  to 
her. 

One  boy  raised  his  hand. 

"Yes?" 

"When  is  Mr.  Liton  going  to  take  our  pictures?" 

"I'm  afraid  Mr.  Liton  isn't  going  to.  Mr.  Liton, 
Miss  Cane,  Mr.  Rolan,  and  I  are  all  going  away  to- 
morrow." 

This  was  a  younger  class,  and  only  a  very  few  of 
the  pupils  had  heard  of  this  before.  They  sat  up 
for  a  moment  and  scrutinized  her  face.  Surely  she 
was  only  joking,  but,  when  they  had  looked  long 
enough,  they  were  assured  that  it  was  no  mere  joke, 
and  some  began  lo  cry.    Miss  Britler  left  the  room. 


238        A   BUNCH   OF   LITTLE   THIEVES 

It  was  no  mere  sentimentality  to  them.  They  all 
knew  who  were  their  friends,  and  they  knew  who 
their  enemies  were,  and  when  they  realized  that  all 
their  friends  were  going  and  that  all  their  enemies 
were  to  remain,  was  there  anything  strange  about 
their  crying?  They  not  only  cried,  some  wept. 
"They'll  kill  us  now  you're  going." 

A  group  gathered  about  Miss  Cane  and  some 
were  wild  enough  to  embrace  her,  and  they  begged, 
"Please  don't  go,  please  do  not  leave  us,  they  will 
kill  us  now." 

A  note  was  taken  into  the  office : 

"I  can  not  teach  the  class  to-day.  Please  send 
some  one  else  in.    I  am  sick.        NIDA  CANE." 

A  cottage  father  was  sent  in  to  take  care  of  the 
class,  while  Miss  Cane  made  her  way  to  her  room, 
and  fell  upon  her  bed  exhausted. 

The  day  wore  on,  and  in  spite  of  nature's  glad- 
ness, misery  increased  upon  Abolt  Hill.  Boys  cried 
and  determined  to  get  even  for  the  treatment  they 
were  receiving,  and  kicking,  beating  and  slapping 
filled  the  corridors  and  the  evening  air  with  crying 
voices. 

School  over,  the  authors  of  the  joint  resignation 
went  to  their  rooms  and  began  to  demolish  what 
once  was  home.  The  pictures  were  taken  down,  the 
book  shelves  emptied,  and  boxes  and  trunks  taken 
out  of  their  hiding. 

Mr.  Liton  worked  thus  until  four  o'clock  in  the 
afternoon,  but  his  heart  became  so  heavy,  he  could 
not  continue. 

"We  can  do  the  rest  tomorrow,"  he  said  to  him- 
self. "I'm  going  to  gather  them  all  and  go  to  the 
village." 


A   BUNCH    OF   LITTLE   THIEVES        239 

They  were  all  anxious  to  go,  so  that  within  a  few 
moments  they  were  following  the  network  of  stream- 
lets down  the  hill  on  their  way  to  the  restaurant  at 
Hilldale.  Such  delicate  purple  and  pink  in  the  sky, 
such  blue  and  brown  on  the  wooded  hills  and  road- 
ways, they  had  never  seen  before.  A  newspaper, 
outgrown  in  usefulness,  an  obstinate  leaf  that  had 
resisted  the  force  that  carried  its  fellows  ofT  weeks 
ago,  and  a  broken  twig  gave  way  to  the  windy  tug- 
ging and  flew  out  of  the  woods,  greeted  them,  and 
went  on  in  graceful  curves  into  the  valley.  The 
snow  began  to  harden,  the  streamlets  gurgling  soft- 
ened down  tenderly  as  the  night  drew  its  icy  mantle 
over  them,  and,  by  contrast,  forced  out  the  lights  of 
the  village. 

They  ordered  a  good  dinner,  ate  very  little,  and 
tried  to  cheer  each  other  up. 

They  hurried  back.  The  forest  cast  big  shadows 
and  each  individual  tree  its  individual  shadow  upon 
the  snow  and  the  ice  covered  waters.  The  houses 
revealed  warm  lights  from  within.  Dogs  barked, 
and  the  moon  and  stars  shone  clear  and  cold.  The 
ground  that  was  exposed  was  hard  and  rough.  The 
snow  creaked  under  their  feet  and  under  the  lonely 
horse  and  wagon  that  passed  them.  For  the  last  time, 
for  them.  Taps  rose  from  the  passing  hill  right  into 
the  clear  heavens,  and  wailed  pathetically  and  fer- 
vently. It  was  for  them,  it  must  have  been.  The 
little  bugler  knew,  and  he  drew^  his  tones  out  long 
and  with  feeling,  and  they  touched  the  hilltop  and 
sank  into  the  valley  like  a  human  sigh. 

Mr.  Staver  threw  his  doors  open  for  them,  and 
his  welcome  was  warm.  "I  feared  you  wouldn't 
come  to-night." 


240        A   BUNCH    OF   LITTLE    THIEVES 

"How  could  we  leave  without  a  final  concert?" 

"That's  what  I  thought,  and  hoped  you  would 
think." 

Mr.  Staver  lit  the  mass  of  paper  and  kindling 
under  the  log,  in  the  fire-place,  saying  as  he  did  so, 
"In  token  of—" 

They  answered  with  a  smile.  The  phonograph 
was  brought  in  and  given  its  place  at  the  head  of  the 
room  on  the  library  table.  Mrs.  Staver  came  out 
carefully  with  her  husband's  help  and  seated  herself 
in  the  bedded  rocker  near  the  fire-place. 

Each  one  took  the  usual  seat  and  the  concert 
began.  As  soon  as  Mr.  Staver  had  placed  a  record 
on  the  machine  he  would  put  the  lights  out,  for  the 
flickering  light  from  the  burning  log  seemed  more 
appropriate  to  the  occasion  and  the  music. 

All  the  violin  and  vocal  solos  they  had  heard  so 
many  times,  bringing  back  feelings  and  recollections 
of  conditions  when  they  had  first  been  heard,  were 
played,  some  as  many  as  four  times  over,  so  that 
before  they  were  through,  the  power  had  been  shut 
ofT  and  candles  substituted,  and  the  grate  filled  with 
ashes  had  to  be  replenished.  Mr.  Staver  hurried  be- 
low to  get  another  log. 

"So  you're  going  away?"  said  Mrs.  Staver. 

"Yes,  tomorrow." 

"You  ought  to  be  glad,  children,  let  me  tell  you. 
I  wish  I  had  never  seen  this  place.  I  stood  it  one 
year  and  I  got  all  I  wanted.  I  haven't  been  well 
since  I  have  come  here.  Frank  expects  a  job  in  the 
city,  and  as  soon  as  he  gets  it  we  get  out,  and  let 
me  tell  you  I  won't  be  sad  as  you  are  when  I  go.  It 
will  be  the  happiest  moment  I  have  had  in  the  last 


A   BUNCH    OF   LITTLE    THIEVES        241 

year.  What  have  you  to  lose?  I  have  lost  my 
health  and  I  doubt  whether  I  will  ever  regain  it." 

Suddenly  a  yell  of  "Who's  there?"  came  from 
below,  and  the  tone  of  voice  was  startling  enough 
to  send  Mr.  Rolan  and  Mr.  Liton  to  Mr.  Staver's  as- 
sistance. 

He  had  been  trying  to  get  a  log  from  under  a 
great  many  boards  and  thought  he  heard  some  one 
moving  at  the  extreme  end  of  the  dark  bin,  which 
was  nothing  more  than  a  hole  made  by  boxing  up 
an  angular  excavation,  not  high  enough  for  a  boy 
to  stand  upright  in,  and  at  that  particular  end  half 
filled  with  old  boards. 

"Hold  this  light,"  he  said  to  Mr.  Liton,  shaking 
with  excitement.  "I  think  it's  a  runaway,  and  he 
seems  half  dead.  He's  been  cooped  in  there  for 
several  days." 

Mr.  Staver  bent  down  and  on  hands  and  feet 
crawled  in  a  yard  or  two  and  called  out  again, 
"Who's  there?" 

There  was  no  response  other  than  a  low  moaning. 
He  crawled  farther,  and  after  considerable  strug- 
gling, reached  in  and  grabbed  an  arm.  It  was  al- 
most impossible  to  drag  the  boy  out,  and  Mr.  Liton, 
handing  the  candle  light  to  Mr.  Rolan,  had  to  crawl 
in  and  help.  The  boy  was  finally  pulled  out,  a 
miserable  specimen  of  a  child.  Small  as  the  light 
was,  he  couldn't  bear  it  and  rubbed  his  eyes.  His 
clothes  were  almost  torn  off  him  and  he  stood  in  his 
stockings,  his  shoes  hanging  to  his  side  by  their 
laces.  In  one  hand  he  held  a  little  bundle  of  food 
wrapped  in  a  newspaper.  It  contained  a  piece  of 
bologna  and  two  slices  of  black  bread. 


242        A   BUNCH    OF    LITTLE    THIEVES 

"Do  you  know  how  long  that  boy's  been  in 
there?"  asked  Mr.  Staver,  and  receiving  no  reply 
answered  himself.  "Since  Saturday,  and  my  boys 
have  been  feeding  him." 

"What  is  your  name?"  cried  Mr.  Staver,  ad- 
dressing himself  to  the  heap  that  seemed  to  stand 
clinging  to  the  wall,  his  back  bent  as  if  guarding 
against  a  blow  that  might  come.  The  child  an- 
swered in  an  undertone,  plaintively,  "Lester 
Daniels." 

Lester  was  helped  upstairs  and  asked  to  sit  down 
on  a  chair  near  the  fire-place,  where  he  cried  and 
worried,  while  Mrs.  Staver  limped  back  into  her 
room  to  make  a  bit  of  hot  cocoa  for  him. 

"I  discovered  their  plot  last  Sunday  night,"  said 
Mr.  Staver  to  the  two  men,  while  Miss  Britter  and 
Nida  straightened  the  little  fellow's  clothes  on  him, 
and  brushed  back  his  hair.  "You  see,  he  had 
planned  to  run  away  one  night  and  hide  in  my  bin, 
and  the  next  night,  that  was  Sunday  night,  three 
of  my  boys  were  to  join  him  and  make  their  escape. 
One  of  my  dormitory  keys  was  stolen,  and  every- 
thing would  have  worked  well,  but  I  noticed  some- 
thing about  them  and  watched.  I  espied  the  key, 
tied  to  a  string  on  Max  Stem's  neck,  and  asked  him 
for  it.  I  didn't  want  him  licked,  so  I  just  took  him 
aside  from  the  rest  and  gave  him  a  talking  to.  You 
see  this  fellow  was  waiting  for  them,  and  there's 
no  telling  how  long  he  would  have  waited  in  that 
hole.     He  might  have  died  there." 

Lester  drank  his  cocoa  and  felt  better. 

Mr.  Staver,  as  he  had  to,  went  to  call  Colonel 
Reilly,   and  Miss   Britter   refused  to  wait   another 


A   BUNCH    OF   LITTLE    THIEVES        243 

moment.  Bidding  farewell  to  their  hosts,  the  four 
of  them  took  the  road  towards  the  farm. 

There  stood  the  dilapidated  house  in  the  valley, 
and  as  they  looked  at  it,  its  shadowy  form  in  the 
night  cut  itself  into  their  thoughts.  It  was  the  last 
time  they  were  to  see  it. 

'"Look,"  cried  Nida,  bewildered,  "isn't  it  on  fire?" 

Rolan  and  Liton  dashed  towards  it,  and  just  as 
they  arrived  at  the  gate  they  saw  a  tramp  rush  from 
its  dilapidated  front  door  and  escape  in  the  woods. 
Rolan  ran  for  the  farmer,  but  before  they  could 
come  back  the  flames  were  oozing  out  of  the  win- 
dows, and  lighting  up  the  valley.  Soon  there  fol- 
lowed a  crash  and  first  the  roof,  then  one  by  one  the 
walls   fell  in  and  were  consumed. 

They  had  been  standing  several  hours  and  gazing 
upon  the  scene  and  with  them  stood  a  number  of 
farmer  boys  and  men;  then  when  most  of  the  crowd 
had  left,  and  they  grew  tired  and  sleepy  and  the 
flames  had  crawled  to  the  fallen  old  tree  trunk  about 
which  the  snow  had  been  melted,  and  began  to  con- 
sume that,  they  turned  and  left  the  smouldering 
heap  and  the  few  that  persisted  in  watching  it  to  its 
end,  and  came  upon  the  grounds  to  Mr.  Staver's  cot- 
tage. 

There  was  no  one  to  be  seen.  The  candle  lights 
had  been  put  out  and  Lester  was  gone. 

Tliere  was  no  sign  of  life  anywhere,  save  the 
watchman  on  his  rounds,  and  the  night  was  filled 
with  the  smell  of  burnt  wood  and  smoke.  Each  re- 
turned to  his  or  her  own  room  to  spend  the  last 
night  there,  and  for  long  after  their  parting  and 
until    the    dawn   swept   away   the   darkness,    four 


244        A   BUNCH   OF   LITTLE   THIEVES 

candles  flickered  away  into  streams  of  hardening 
wax. 

There  were  about  twenty  boys  that  Mr.  Liton  had 
a  message  for  next  morning.  These  he  made  it  his 
business  to  see,  then,  like  the  rest,  completed  his 
packing. 

"We  must  not  let  them  see  us  go." 

"At  five  o'clock  everything  had  been  attended  to, 
and  while  the  boys  were  having  their  evening  meal 
the  four  disappointed  comrades  took  the  path  down 
the  hill.  There  was  no  looking  back.  On  they  went 
until  the  cottage  roofs  and  power-house  smoke- 
stack were  lost  behind  a  rising  stretch  of  woods, 
and  Abolt  station  was  reached. 

The  train  pulled  in.  Half  an  hour  later  the  hill 
and  all  their  hopes,  together  with  the  heap  of  ashes 
and  the  gaping  black  cellar  hole  in  the  valley,  passed 
out  of  their  lives,  and  twilight  deepened  into  night. 


CHAPTER    XYIII 

A  PLIGHT  TO  TOWER  HILL 

One  of  the  boys,  seated  at  the  end  of  his  table  in 
the  dining  room,  looked  out  of  the  window  and  saw 
the  four  teachers  hurriedly  walk  down  the  pathway, 
and  one  by  one  enter  the  opening  in  the  long  line 
of  bare  limbed  trees  and  bluish  brown  shubbery  and 
pass  out  of  sight.  On  the  roadway  he  saw  the  far- 
mer driving  the  heavy  farm  wagon,  loaded  with 
trunks,  towards  the  gateway — he  too  disappeared. 

"They're  gone  now!"  cried  the  boy  as  softly  as 
his  excitement  allowed,  "and  we  won't  see  them  any 
more!" 

The  puritanic  hungry-looking  cottage  mother 
standing  near  his  table,  did  not  have  her  old  shoe 
with  her,  but  making  use  of  the  palm  of  her  hand, 
which  was  as  dry  and  lifeless,  punished  the  boy  for 
his  ofYense,  and  then  in  disgust,  wiped  her  hand 
with  her  towel  as  if  the  hand  had  been  the  victim 
of  cruelty. 

The  boys  took  up  the  information,  however,  and 
soon  it  reached  the  next  table  and  before  long  the 
news  had  spread  about  the  dining  room.  Colonel 
Reilly  lifted  up  his  massive  figure  in  defiance,  and 
paraded  it  up  and  down  the  long  cement  floor.  The 
dignified  Superintendent,  perhaps  for  the  first  time 
in  his  twenty  years  of  experience,  joined  him,  and 
paraded  and  watched  with  him  for  a  while;  then 
walked  out. 

The  atmosphere  in  the  room  had  not  been  very 
conducive   to   appetite   so   that   only   those   whose 


246        A   BUNCH    OF   LITTLE   THIEVES 

hunger  was  greater  than  their  fear  ate  at  all.  Tears 
streamed  down  the  faces  of  some  of  them,  while 
the  eyes  of  all  kept  shooting  nervously  from  side 
to  side  as  Authority  made  its  way  from  one  end  of 
the  long  room  to  the  other. 

The  little  bell  rang.  Supper  was  over  and  every 
boy  jumped  to  his  feet.  Colonel  Reilly  folded  his 
arms  and  looked  sharply  around,  his  head  slightly 
lowered  and  his  eyes  straining  upwards.  They 
stood  perfectly  quiet  with  caps  on  shoulders  waiting 
for  him.  Michael's  tired  right  arm  holding  his  cap 
on  his  left  shoulder  fell  for  an  instant  and  was 
lifted  up  again.  The  Colonel  walked  slowly  towards 
him  his  eyes  fixed  on  the  other  end  of  the  room,  and, 
while  Michael  stood  staring  at  the  floor,  a  big  hand 
shot  at  him  and  struck  him  upon  the  mouth.  Michael 
reeled  and  his  eyes  filled  with  tears.  Two  drops  of 
blood  oozed  from  his  lower  lip.  An  expression  of 
anger  flashed  upon  his  face  and  disappeared,  and 
a  bitter  cry  was  subdued  and  swallowed.  Michael 
was  being  reformed  and  non-resistance  was  becom- 
ing a  policy  with  him. 

He  swallowed  his  anger,  wiped  the  blood  from 
his  lip,  held  back  the  tears  in  his  eyes,  and  stood 
quietly  where  he  was  supposed  to  stand. 

Colonel  Reilly  laughed  in  his  heart,  when  he  saw 
the  effect  his  method  of  discipline  now  had  upon 
Michael.  "With  them  creatures  out  of  the  way, 
they'll  obey  all  right."  His  face  flushed  with  pride, 
his  voice  grew  even  more  authoritative,  and  he 
swung  himself  about  with  the  grace  and  power  of 
a  god. 

A  great  change  was  wrought  upon  the  grounds 
of    Abolt    School.    Obedience    became    a    popular 


A   BUNCH    OF   LITTLE    THIEVES        247 

virtue,  and  the  minority  received  as  they  bought. 
Slap,  bang,  kick,  and  yell,  day  after  day  and  minute 
after  minute,  for  big  ofiences,  little  offences,  and  for 
no  offence  at  all.  One  fellow  had  his  coat  ripped 
ofT  of  him,  another  had  his  ear  lobe  torn,  a  third 
had  his  teeth  broken,  and  a  fourth  his  eye  blacked. 

Many  of  the  members  of  the  staff  were  hilarious 
over  what  they  considered  their  victory,  and  the  sen- 
tence, "Good  riddin's  of  bad  rubbish,"  was  heard 
from  one  end  of  the  hill  to  the  other. 

A  new  principal  and  several  new  teachers  came 
a  week  later.  The  principal,  a  Mr.  Frederick  Ope, 
was  a  College  Graduate,  a  civil  engineer  who  after 
a  number  of  failures  realized  that  he  had  taken  the 
wrong  vocational  track,  and  finding  nothing  else 
to  do  tried  his  hand  at  teaching.  He  was  a  slave  of 
whiskey,  tobacco,  and  every  one  who  desired  to 
make  himself  his  master,  and  took  up  the  reins  of 
office  with  the  well-grounded  feeling  that  he  need 
not  concern  himself  as  to  where  he  was  going  to 
drive.  Colonel  Reilly  had  a  hand  upon  those  reins, 
and  whatever  of  the  straps  was  left  hanging  down, 
the  leer-eyed  principal  accepted  with  the  grace  of 
an  experienced  driver,  and  had  real  sensations  of 
driving. 

Upon  his  arrival,  the  Superintendent  informed 
him  that  Colonel  Reilly  had  charge  of  the  school 
discipline,  and  that  he,  the  principal,  was  to  make 
himself  useful  to  the  teachers  only  as  far  as  subject 
matter  was  concerned;  adding,  "Any  information 
you  may  want  regarding  the  work  we  have  been 
doing,  you  can  get  from  Miss  Brand,  who  has  been 
here  a  very  long  time  and  who  is  a  very  capable 
teacher." 


248        A   BUNCH    OF   LITTLE   THIEVES 

Mr.  Ope  accepted  the  advice  as  gratefully  as  he 
abided  by  the  order,  and  never  ceased  informing 
himself  as  to  what  had  been  done  at  the  Abolt 
School,  and  his  informer  in  an  equally  happy  state 
of  mind  accepted  her  appointment. 

The  hallways  rang  once  more  with  the  military 
commands  and  the  voices  of  friends  seemed  hushed 
forever.  "Hip,  hip,  hip,"  took  the  place  of  en- 
couraging appeals,  and  echoing  from  wall  to  wall, 
those  fear-inspiring  sounds  made  a  kind  of  sordid 
duet  with  the  sickening  thud  of  the  many  weary 
feet  upon  the  hard  cement  floor  where  they  moved  an 
inch  at  a  time. 

Many  weeks  passed  by,  and  each  boy,  in  a  degree 
of  his  own,  adapted  himself  to  the  new  condi- 
tions, forgetting  all  that  his  little  soul  had  heard  in 
better  times.  Some  boys  were  paroled  and  many 
new  ones  came.  The  old  spirit  smouldered  and  died 
and  a  new  spirit  was  born. 

Day  after  day,  sometimes  four  and  five  times  a 
day.  Colonel  Reilly  called  upon  the  principal  and 
asked  him  whether  he  had  any  names  of  boys  who 
were  in  need  of  disciplining;  and  day  after  day  the 
leer-eyed,  obliging  principal  gathered  the  names 
and  gave  them  in, 

"You  see,"  the  Colonel  said  to  him  one  day, 
"they  came  here  and  tried  to  tell  me  how  to  run  a 
reform  school,  and  they  got  left," 

"What  they  deserved,"  grinned  the  principal, 

"They  didn't  know  these  boys  at  all.  They  didn't 
see  the  stealing  of  apples  and  what  not,  that  I  saw; 
and  wanted  to  treat  them  as  if  they  were  angels. 
But  they  are  no  angels  in  my  eyes.  They're  a  bunch 
of  little  thieves,  and  should  be  treated  as  such.    You 


A   BUNCH    OF   LITTLE   THIEVES        249 

can't  treat  a  pickpocket  and  a  thief  as  you  would  a 
good  child,  can  you?" 

"Of  course  not.     Sheer  ridiculousness." 

"But  they  didn't  want  to  know  this.  What  was 
the  result?" 

"I  can  imagine." 

"Back  talk!  Disobedience!  Impudence!  It  was 
terrible.  Look  at  the  discipline  I  have  now — quite 
a  difference,  eh?  In  a  short  while,  you  will  see  a 
still  greater  difference.  I  haven't  had  a  chance  yet 
to  round  all  of  them  up." 

"Oh,  sure  not.  I  have  a  few  in  Miss  Brand's 
class  and  a  few  in  the  High  School  class  that  need 
some  rounding  up." 

"High  School  class!"  said  the  Colonel,  "Believe 
me,  they  don't  want  no  High  School  class  in  this 
school." 

"You're  right  there,"  answered  the  leer-eyed 
principal,  taking  his  right  hand  out  of  his  right- 
hand  pocket  and  putting  his  left  hand  into  his  left- 
hand  pocket  and  correspondingly  changing  his  feet 
on  the  chair  before  him.  "I  am  certain  that  it  will 
be  better,  as  you  say,  to  do  away  with  that  High 
School  class.     They're  not  fit  for  it  at  all." 

Colonel  Reilly  left  the  principal  in  his  office,  a 
cold-looking  place  now,  without  pictures  on  the 
walls  and  with  the  floor  littered  with  wrapping 
paper. 

Half  an  hour  later,  he  issued  from  the  Superin- 
tendent's office  and  made  for  the  High  School  class 
room.  A  young  man,  who  might  have  been  taken 
for  a  brother  to  the  principal,  opened  the  door  and 
admitted  the  Colonel  in  time  to  see  a  few  of  the 
slower  boys  clatter  to  their  seats.    The  High  School 


250        A   BUNCH    OF   LITTLE    THIEVES 

teacher's  face  turned  very  red,  and  his  class  became 
as  busy  as  they  could  make  themselves  appear  in 
so  short  a  time. 

The  Colonel  looked  at  them  ferociously  for  a  few 
moments,  then  called  out  slowly,  "Tifton,  come 
with  me." 

Louis  Tifton  came  forward  no  little  worried  as 
to  what  he  might  be  wanted  for. 

"Come  along  with  me,"  repeated  the  Colonel  and 
closed  the  door  behind  him. 

Louis  followed  him  closely,  wondering  a  great 
deal,  but  asking  no  questions.  The  Colonel  inserted 
a  key  into  the  key-hole  of  the  door  of  the  photo- 
graphic dark  room,  threw  it  wide  open,  and  they 
entered.  With  his  two  big  hands  he  tore  off,  first 
one  and  then  the  other  of  the  two  wooden  blinds 
that  the  boys  had  hinged  to  the  windows  to  keep  the 
light  out,  and  Louis  carried  them  below  to  the  power 
house  where  he  threw  them  upon  a  pile  of  kindling 
wood.  When  he  returned  the  Colonel  told  him  to 
take  the  large  camera  and  that  part  of  the  materials 
that  belonged  to  it  to  Mr.  Krammer's  home,  and  the 
small  cameras  and  the  rest  of  the  materials  to  his 
office,  and  soon  there  was  nothing  left  in  the  room. 
The  names  scratched  upon  the  walls  and  the  floor 
seemed  to  come  out  again. 

"Wait  here  for  me,"  said  the  Colonel,  and  went 
below. 

Louis  walked  up  to  one  of  the  small  windows 
and  looked  out  upon  the  eastern  hill  and  thought, 
till  he  heard  some  one  coming  upstairs.  He  turned 
and  saw  the  Colonel  enter  with  a  stick  in  his  hand, 
and  he  almost  fainted  in  fright. 


A   BUNCH    OF   LITTLE   THIEVES        251 

"This  room,"  began  the  Colonel,  "is  going  to  be 
the  disciplining  room.  You're  to  watch  it,  and  this 
stick  is  for  your  use.  See  that  you  make  them  mind. 
I'm  going  and  when  I  come  up  again,  I  will  have 
a  few  boys  with  me.  They  are  to  get  on  their  knees 
and  you  are  to  see  that  they  stay  on  their  knees,  do 
you  understand?"* 

"Yes,  sir." 

The  Colonel  walked  down  once  more  and  soon 
returned  with  Sam  Phelps,  Dick  Kennen,  and  Manuel 
Rogirs  behind  him. 

All  three  were  ordered  to  get  on  their  knees 
against  the  wall,  and  told  to  remain  that  way  on 
pain  of  very  severe  punishment. 

"You  snitched  on  us,  didn't  you?"  demanded 
Manuel  when  the  Colonel's  steps  were  heard  to  have 
reached  the  ground  floor  below. 

"I  did  not,"  returned  Louis,  indignantly,  "I 
never  said  a  word  to  him  and  he  didn't  ask  me." 

"Say,"  whispered  Manuel,  "shut  the  door." 

"Naw,  it's  better  open.  We  can  hear  if  any- 
body's coming." 

"Say  fellows,  let's  us  four  beat  it." 

There  was  silence  for  a  few  moments,  and  all 
thought  it  over,  then  Louis  objected. 

"What's  the  use  of  my  going  now,  I'll  be  paroled 
very  soon  anyway.  If  I  run  away  and  they  catch 
me,  I'll  only  have  to  serve  all  my  time  over  again." 


*"A  whipping  room,  in  wliich  long  rattan  sticks  are 
soal^ed  in  a  tub  of  vinegar  before  being  laid  across  tlie  baclcs 
of  the  young  inmates  who  are  due  for  a  whipping  is  one  of 

the  particular  cruel  features  of ,  according 

to  ,  Jr.,   now   a  cripple   who   was   released 

from  the  institution  yesterday." — Philadelphia  Times,  Feb.  20, 
1913. 


252        A   BUNCH   OF   LITTLE   THIEVES 

"Don't  you  fool  yourself,"  put  in  Dick,  who  for 
his  short  time  at  the  institution,  half  of  which  had 
been  spent  in  the  hospital,  was  remarkably  well  ac- 
quainted with  its  methods.  "Even  if  your  time  is 
up,  they  never  let  you  go." 

"Well,  I'll  see  when  my  father  comes — if  they 
don't  let  me  go,  I'll  beat  it  with  you." 

"You  don't  learn  nothing,  get  beat — "  Sam  Phelps 
couldn't  finish  his  sentence.  He  was  mercilessly  in- 
terrupted by  a  subdued  burst  of  laughter  at  his 
naivety,  but  would  not  give  way.  "Sure,"  he 
sneered,  "Didn't  yous  yourself  grunt  about  how 
much  yous  were  learning  when  Mr.  Liton  was  here?" 

"That's  true,"  Manuel  began  again,  in  the  hopes 
that  he  might  thus  avoid  a  break  in  the  conspiracy, 
"I  want  to  tell  you  my  scheme.  We  four  fellows 
can  land  safely  in  New  York.  I  got  the  dough.  We 
can  catch  the  midnight  train  at  Hilldale.  I  know 
where  it  is,  I've  been  there  bushels  of  times.  In 
New  York  we  can  make  piles  of  money  and  when 
we  have  enough  skip  to  Canada  and  be  free." 

"That's  a  good  scheme,  all  right,"  said  Dick, 
"I'm  game." 

They  heard  a  step  on  the  stairway  and  hastily 
got  into  the  required  position.  It  was  the  Superin- 
tendent, himself,  coming. 

He  stood  for  a  moment  or  two  at  the  threshold, 
staring  at  the  culprits  who  assumed  extremely  meek 
expressions,  and  admiring  Louis,  who  seemed  a 
lion  in  power  and  unflinchingly  severe. 

"You  keep  your  hands  behind  you  there," 
thundered  Mr.  Krammer,  pointing  at  Dick  who  had 
forgotten  about  that  part  of  his  punishment,  then 


A   BUNCH   OF   LITTLE   THIEVES        253 

turned  to  Louis  and  said  very  softly,  "Gome  out  here 
a  minute." 

"I  was  in  the  city  yesterday,"  he  began,  "and  I 
went  to  see  your  father,  and  you  will  be  glad  to  hear, 
that  I  have  made  some  excellent  arrangements  for 
you,  Louis." 

Louis'  face  grew  red. 

"I  told  your  father  and  mother  that,  because  you 
were  a  very  good  boy,  I  am  going  to  give  you  a  job. 
You  are  a  pretty  big  boy,  and  as  you  know  your 
parents  need  your  help.  You  have  had  quite  a  little 
schooling  here,  but  if  you  should  desire  more  we  can 
arrange  for  that  too.  At  any  rate,  the  Colonel  and  I 
have  agreed  that  you  are  the  boy  for  this  job.  We 
are  going  to  make  this  a  disciplinary  room,  where 
the  boys  who  can't  behave  themselves — "  Here  he 
perceived  that  one  of  the  boys  inside  was  out  of 
position  and  quickly  dashed  in  to  correct  him. 

"I  was  saying,  those  boys  who  can't  behave 
themselves  in  their  class  rooms  will  spend  their 
time  on  their  knees,  up  here.  I  have  made  arrange- 
ments with  your  father.  I  will  send  him  a  sum  of 
money  every  month,  and  let  you  have  a  little  for 
yourself,  too,  and  you  will  be  working  for  the  in- 
stitution. You  will  not  be  considered  as  one  of  the 
boys  any  more,  and  will  have  plenty  of  freedom. 
You  will  get  a  cadet's  room  all  to  yourself  and  will 
be  able  to  take  a  day  off  every  oflier  week  and  go 
home  to  your  people.  You  know,  of  course,  that 
when  a  boy  is  paroled  from  this  school,  he  is  still 
under  our  care  and  can  be  brought  back  at  any  time. 
You  can  work  yourself  up  here,  and  become  a  cot- 
tage father  or  a  teacher,  if  you  want  to." 


254        A   BUNCH    OF   LITTLE   THIEVES 

Louis'  eyes  filled  with  tears.  For  the  last  few 
months  he  had  been  counting  the  days  that  were 
between  him  and  his  long  desired  return  to  home 
and  freedom,  and  now,  because  of  a  compact  of 
which  he  had  known  nothing,  and  to  which  he 
would  never  have  consented,  he  was  again,  and  this 
time  hopelessly,  a  slave. 

The  Superintendent,  on  the  other  hand,  was  cer- 
tain that  the  boy  was  shedding  tears  of  gratitude, 
for,  in  his  way  of  thinking,  what  could  a  fallen  boy 
desire  more  than  a  good  steady  job.  Had  he  not 
tried  to  make  them  feel  that  it  is  better  to  be  honest 
than  to  have  a  great  deal  of  money  and  enjoy  life? 
Didn't  he  impress  upon  their  minds  that  there  is 
nothing  in  life  more  worth  while  than  service,  by 
reading  so  many  times,  Elbert  Hubbard's  "A  Message 
to  the  Employee?"  Had  he  not,  by  this  time,  incul- 
cated into  each  of  them  the  desire  to  emulate  the 
peaceful,  contented  man,  who  serves  his  employer 
and  his  country,  obeys  all  law  and  respects  order, 
and  eats  his  honest  piece  of  bread,  poor  and  tasteless 
though  it  be? 

Relieving  himself  of  very  warm  congratulations, 
the  Superintendent  left  the  coop,  and  made  his  way 
down  the  three  flights  of  stairs. 

"My  father  had  no  right  to  do  it,"  cried  Louis 
when  at  his  post  again,  after  he  had  recited  every 
word  of  the  conversation,  "I'm  game,  now,  all  right, 
but  let  us  get  away  to  Canada  even  quicker  than 
you  say.  I  won't  go  home  either.  If  they  catch 
us  they'll  make  me  stay  two  years  more  or  even 
three  and  then  I'll  be  free.  If  I  stay  at  this  job  I 
never  will  be  free  again." 


A   BUNCH    OF   LITTLE    THIEVES        255 

For  several  days  Louis  was  at  his  post,  always 
friendly  to  his  victims  when  alone  with  them  and 
always  very  severe  when  an  ofTicer  was  present. 
One  morning  Michael  Roate  was  brought  into  the 
coop  and  forced  down  upon  his  knees  with  the 
promise  that  if  a  whole  day  of  that  didn't  knock  all 
the  stubbornness  out  of  him,  the  stick  would  be 
applied  again;  and  when  Michael  got  down  upon  his 
knees  he  began  to  think  the  matter  over. 

"Is  it  true,"  he  asked  some  time  later,  "that  Mr. 
Liton  made  a  school  of  his  own  out  of  the  monastery 
on  the  hill?" 

"Sure  it's  true,"  answered  Louis. 

"How  do  you  know?" 

"Don't  you  believe  me?" 

"I  do  believe  you,  but  I  want  to  know  how  you 
know." 

"I  know,  you  take  it  from  me." 

Michael  was  going  to  ask  whether  Louis  knew 
how  to  get  there,  but  he  thought  it  better  not  to. 
That  night  another  ghost  slid  down  a  cottage  wall, 
and  disappeared  in  the  woods,  with  only  the  greater 
part  of  his  plan  working,  for  he  had  heard  the  grind 
of  the  watchman's  shoes  upon  the  gravel,  before  he 
could  locate  and  don  all  the  clothes  that  he  had 
successfully  hidden.  He  found  himself  without 
shoes  and  without  his  cap,  dashing  somewhere 
through  the  icy  woods. 

It  was  a  still  night  in  the  early  part  of  spring. 
The  ground  was  hard  and  covered  here  and  there 
with  small  patches  of  snow.  The  brooks  were 
all  frozen.  He  ran  hopping  through  the  woods  till 
he  was  far  enough  from  the  school  grounds,  then 
turned  and  took  a  western  direction,  going  down 


256        A   BUNCH   OF   LITTLE   THIEVES 

the  side  of  Abolt  Hill  into  the  valley  towards  Abolt 
village.  His  knees  were  stiff,  the  soles  of  his  feet 
received  dig  after  dig,  and  his  hands  were  all 
scratched  up,  but  never  did  he  think  of  either  or 
slacken  his  pace,  save  when  suddenly  he  heard  the 
barking  of  a  dog  too  near,  or  the  stirring  of  some- 
thing before  or  behind  him.  Once,  just  as  he  ap- 
proached a  path,  he  heard  some  one,  apparently 
drunk,  talking  to  himself,  and  struggling  up  the 
hill.  But  the  man  soon  passed  him,  and  when  his 
heart  grew  quiet  enough  for  him  to  catch  a  deep 
breath,  he  went  on  again. 

In  that  way  he  came  near  the  village,  and  took 
a  roundabout  way  to  avoid  running  across  a  vil- 
lager who  might  be  aware  of  the  five  dollars  in  store 
for  any  one  who  caught  an  Abolt  School  runaway; 
but  as  soon  as  he  lost  the  village,  he  became  uncer- 
tain of  his  way  and  stopped  to  think  and  cry. 

Finally,  thinking  he  distinguished  the  hill  he 
wanted  from  those  about  it,  he  dashed  into  the  strip 
of  woodland  that  lay  before  him,  and  came  upon  a 
frozen  brook.  There  were  no  bridges  about,  and 
being  unable  to  do  anything  else,  he  attempted  to 
cross  it.  He  was  within  a  few  feet  of  the  other  end, 
and  just  as  he  lifted  a  blood-stained,  stockinged 
foot  to  step  upon  a  rotten  log,  he  saw  a  figure  like 
that  of  the  Colonel.  There,  a  few  rods  before  him 
among  a  cluster  of  dark  green  trees,  stood  the  Colonel 
in  his  deep  blue  uniform  and  white  gloves.  The  boy 
fell  upon  his  face  in  fright. 

It  was  some  time  before  he  could  look  up  again, 
and  when  he  did,  his  heart  fairly  jumping  out  of 
him,  and  his  limbs  shaking  violently,  he  saw  the 
Colonel  standing  motionless,  in  the  same  position. 


A   BUNCH    OF   LITTLE   THIEVES        257 

He  looked  sharply.  Was  it  possible?  The  figure 
seemed  too  quiet  to  be  real,  but  he  was  afraid  of  it 
and  slowly  crawled  away,  watching  it  as  he  went, 
until  he  was  out  of  its  reach;  then  he  started  upon 
a  run  for  his  life. 

Luckily  the  apparition,  being  made  of  wood  and 
two  small  patches  of  snow,  could  not  run  after  him, 
though  he  did  think  he  heard  it  behind  him  more 
than  once  in  his  horrible  flight. 

Over  and  over,  again  and  again,  he  ran  his  toes 
against  a  stone,  the  stump  of  a  tree,  or  a  bit  of  ice, 
stumbling,  rising,  running  or  limping  on;  and,  final- 
ly, admonishing  himself  with  bitter  tears  for  having 
made  such  a  foolish,  hopeless  attempt  and  for  not 
having  remained  and  served  his  time.  His  mind  was 
being  wrecked  by  the  fear  of  discovery,  the  terror 
of  meeting  a  man,  a  policeman,  or  a  mean  dog,  the 
possibility  of  Mr.  Liton's  being  unable  to  save  him, 
or  his  own  inability  to  find  Mr.  Liton's  school.  At 
last  he  came  upon  a  path  which  he  felt  sure  must 
lead  to  the  top  of  the  western  hill,  and  sending  all 
his  cares  to  oblivion,  he  madly  struggled  upwards. 

But  the  pathway  seemed  endless.  Up  a  little 
knob  and  down  its  other  side!  One  time  he  came 
to  a  point  where  his  way  branched  off  into  two 
paths  and  one  seemod  as  good  as  the  other.  He 
took  one  of  them  and  ran  along,  only  to  find  him- 
self going  downwards.  He  cried  bitterly  and  re- 
traced his  steps  till  he  came  to  the  fork  again,  and 
there  took  the  other  path. 

It  was  half  past  two  in  the  morning,  tliroe  hours 
after  he  had  sliddcn  down  the  rope  from  his  cottage 
window,  when  he  came  out  of  the  woods  into  an 
opening  on  the  hilltop  and  saw  before  him  the  dark 


258        A   BUNCH    OF   LITTLE   THIEVES 

old  monastery  with  its  two  towers  peacefully  sleep- 
ing in  the  dead  of  the  quiet  starlit  night. 

He  picked  up  another  path  that  led  him  to  a  two- 
story  shed-like  building  and  into  a  sort  of  garden 
or  court  yard.  Here  a  pebbled  walk  led  to  a  small 
open  veranda.  He  mounted  the  few  steps  leading  to 
it,  very  cautiously,  dreading  the  awakening  of  some 
dog  or  watchman,  and  nervously  knocked  on  the 
solid  old  door. 

This  seemed  to  be  the  worst  part  of  the  whole 
undertaking,  and  he  shook  and  shivered,  and  cursed 
the  whole  world. 

The  sound  he  made  with  his  knuckles  echoed  on 
the  hilltop  and  against  the  two-story  shed,  slightly 
disturbed  the  night  and  sank  into  a  dead  terrifying 
silence  again.    No  answer. 

He  cried  more  bitterly  and  shook  and  shivered 
more,  then  rapped  again,  and  again  the  night  took 
up  the  sound. 

Suddenly  a  window  opened  on  the  second  floor 
a  girl's  head  with  hair  streaming  down  loosely, 
popped  out  and  a  voice  softly  demanded  an  explana- 
tion. 

"Is  this  Mr.  Liton's  school?"  he  asked  her,  sob- 
bing, and  she  answered  affirmatively. 

"Please  tell  Mr.  Liton  to  come  down  right  away; 
I  want  to  see  him." 

"All  right,  I'll  call  him  right  away,"  she  replied, 
and  her  voice  was  the  sweetest  sound  that  his  bat- 
tling little  soul  had  ever  heard  in  all  its  struggling 
existence. 

The  big  door  flew  open  and  the  light  streamed 
out  upon  a  wild-looking  youngster  in  rags.  His 
hair  was  uncombed  and  in  knots,  his  eyes  stared  in 


A   BUNCH    OF   LITTLE   THIEVES        259 

terror,  fairly  bulging  out  of  his  head,  his  hands  were 
covered  with  blood,  his  stockings  were  ripped  into 
shreds,  and  his  feet  were  black  and  blue  and  swollen. 

"Please  take  me  in,  Mr.  Liton,"  he  cried,  "I  am 
Michael  from  Abolt  School.  I  ran  away.  I  will 
work  for  you  all  my  life,  if  you  help  me  now." 

"Marguerite,"  said  Mr.  Liton  softly,  "run  up 
into  the  tower  like  a  good  girl  and  fix  up  the  cot. 
Get  some  hot  water  ready." 

Marguerite  rushed  up  the  stairs  as  fast  as  she 
could  go,  while  Mr.  Liton  took  the  protesting  runa- 
way in  his  arms  and  carried  him. 

"I  can  walk,  Mr.  Liton,  please  don't  carry  me." 

"Oh,  no !  You  musn't  walk  on  those  feet.  I  can 
carry  you." 

"Will  you  keep  me  here,  Mr.  Liton?  Please  don't 
let  them  take  me  back.  I'll  kill  myself  if  they  take 
me  back." 

"No,  I  won't  let  them  take  you  back.  You  are 
going  to  stay  right  here  with  us,  Michael.  You  will 
be  one  of  my  boys  and  work  with  the  rest  of  us. 
I  am  very  glad  you  came  to  me." 

"I  will  work  for  you  all  my  life,"  insisted  Mich- 
ael, and  his  tears  fell  faster  than  ever. 

They  reached  the  bathroom  on  the  second  floor, 
and  Michael  was  seated  on  a  chair  where  he  could 
keep  his  feet  from  touching  the  floor.  Marguerite 
brought  everything  that  Mr.  Liton  had  called  for; 
then  she  went  up  into  the  tower  room  and  sat  there 
waiting  for  them,  until  Mr.  Liton  came  up  with 
the  renovated  Michael,  who  was  placed  upon  the 
clean  blankets  of  the  cot.  His  hands  and  feet  were 
bandaged  and  when  everything  that  could  be  done 
for  him  had  been  done,  and  Mr.  Liton  and  Mar- 


260        A   BUNCH    OF   LITTLE   THIEVES 

guerite  were  about  to  return  to  their  beds,  Michael 
begged  them  not  to  leave  him  alone. 

"I  know,"  he  cried,  "they're  after  me." 

"You  foolish  boy,"  said  Mr.  Liton,  "the  doors 
are  all  locked.  No  one  can  come  in  here.  But  I 
will  stay  with  you.  Marguerite,  you  might  as  well 
go  to  bed." 

"I'd  rather  stay  up  with  you,"  said  Marguerite, 
"I  couldn't  sleep  any  more,  anyway." 

Mr.  Liton  brought  in  two  rockers  and  he  and 
Marguerite  sat  down  near  the  cot  and  read.  Michael 
lay  for  a  few  moments  staring  around  the  wonder- 
ful room  in  which  he  found  himself.  Two  of  the 
walls  were  all  window  and  one  was  all  door. 
Strange  pictures  hung  upon  the  fourth  wall  and  a 
stranger  instrument  stood  in  a  corner. 

Michael  continued  staring  until  his  eyelids  grew 
heavy,  then,  forgetting  the  world  with  all  the  horror 
he  had  experienced  in  it,  he  fell  asleep  to  dream  of 
fairyland,  for  the  first  time  in  all  his  life. 

END    OP    BOOK    ONE 


Kind  thoughts,  and  mighty  hopes,  and  gentle  deeds 
Abound,  for  fearless  love,  and  the  pure  law 
Of  mild  equality  and  peace,  succeeds 
To  faiths  which  long  have  held  the  world  in  aive, 
Bloody  and  false  and  cold. 

—PERCY  BYSSHE  SHELLEY. 


BOOK    TWO 
CHAPTER    I 

A    VISION 

The  twelve  o'clock  train  from  Chicago  and  the 
West  pulled  into  the  smoky  station  of  the  metropo- 
lis on  a  hot  July  day,  and  but  slightly  stirred  the 
multitudinous  inhabitants  of  the  great  ant-hill.  Of 
the  individuals  that  had  been  gliding  about,  since 
eternity  began  it  seemed,  some  quickened  their 
paces  and  gathered  about  the  sombre  corridor  with 
its  iron  gate-way,  fanning,  blowing,  bustling,  and 
waiting.  The  awe-inspiring  locomotive,  with  its 
mysteriously  built  cab  and  its  especially  long  train 
of  cars,  dusty,  squeaky,  and  dark,  pulled  up  to  the 
very  end  of  the  track  without  revealing  a  single 
individual  of  the  many  it  had  brought.  Of  a  sudden, 
the  doors  of  each  car  were  opened,  and  a  shower  of 
men,  women  and  children  followed.  One  after  an- 
other, and  often  a  dozen  at  a  time,  poured  out  for 
many  minutes  without  exhausting  the  stream. 
Many  of  them  rushed  eagerly  because  of  those  who 
were  anxiously  waiting  for  them,  and  others  be- 
cause they  feared  the  night  in  a  great  city  and 
wished  to  have  time  enough  to  make  the  necessary 
arrangements  by  daylight;  but  some  took  their 
time.  None  waiting  for  them,  apparently  familiar 
with  the  city  they  had  just  come  to,  they  waited 
until  the  largest  part  of  the  crowd  was  ahead  of 
them,  then  followed  into  the  waiting  room. 


264        A   BUNCH   OF   LITTLE   THIEVES 

Among  those  who  took  their  time,  walked  a 
young  woman  of  about  thirty-five.  She  wore  a 
white  waist  and  a  neat  gray  skirt,  and  carried  a 
suit-case  and  a  rain-coat.  Beneath  a  very  simple 
straw  hat  was  revealed  the  face  of  a  strong  personal- 
ity, and  as  little  as  was  possible  of  her  already  gray 
hair.  She  bore  the  expression  of  one  who  had  suf- 
fered intensely,  and  had  come  out  of  each  ordeal 
more  able  to  bear  than  before;  but  traces  of  these 
ordeals  were  visibly  playing  about  her  still  fair  and 
resolute  features. 

She  walked  to  the  parcels  desk  and  left  her  suit- 
case, then  turned  and  swung  into  the  stream  that 
poured  out  of  the  exits. 

"Think  of  it!  Three  years  since  I  last  saw  this!" 
she  muttered  to  herself  with  a  sigh,  as  she  came 
upon  a  corner  that  she  had  seen  an  infmite  num- 
ber of  times  before  those  three  years  began  their 
distant  course, — then  walked  on  with  the  city's  un- 
wearied. 

On  trolley  cars  and  off  she  went  from  street  to 
street,  from  friend  and  acquaintance  to  friend  and 
acquaintance,  till  the  desired  information  was  giv- 
en; then  returned  to  the  same  station  and  boarded 
a  local  train.  One  hour  of  travel  over  scenes  pain- 
fully familiar,  and  she  came  to  a  country  station 
and  alighted. 

There  were  the  velvet  green  lawns  and  flowers 
and  white-washed  stones,  the  villagers'  cottages,  the 
hotel,  the  post  office  and  grocery  store.  Towards 
the  left  she  could  see  ascending  woods  and  beyond 
that  she  could  see  in  her  memory  a  miniature  pla- 
teau with  rows  of  cottages  and  pebbled  walks,  and 


A   BUNCH   OF   LITTLE   THIEVES        265 

towards  the  right  a  hill  was  in  sight,  and  on  its 
summit  two  living  towers. 

A  charming  country  road,  shaded  by  drooping 
willow  trees,  curving,  rising  and  falling  with  de- 
lightful grace,  led  to  that  hill  with  its  fascinating 
towers.    This  road  she  took. 

About  three-quarters  of  a  mile  outside  of  the 
village  a  pathway  wound  down  the  hillside  to  the 
road.  This  path  she  recognized  by  the  richly  laden 
apple  tree  which  stood  a  few  feet  up  the  side  of  the 
hill  and  sent  its  gnarled  roots  to  sew  together  the 
broken  greenish  brown.  She  knew  that  some  dis- 
tance up  was  a  very  shady  spot,  and  hastened  toward 
it;  for  the  day  was  very  hot  and  her  limbs  had  been 
cramped  so  long.  She  sat  there  for  a  few  minutes, 
looked  for  the  initials  and  the  names  that  had  been 
carved  on  difTerent  tree-trunks;  then  the  desire  to 
get  to  her  destination  forced  her  to  hurry  on  till 
she  saw  a  little  ahead  of  her  what  once  was  a  monas- 
tery. 

She  came  upon  a  garden.  A  long  and  wide 
stretch  of  potatoes  on  one  side  and  on  the  other 
perfect  rows  of  perfect  cabbages,  and  beyond  that 
corn.  A  number  of  boys  were  busy  hoeing  among 
the  high  stalks,  and  did  not  notice  her.  She  ap- 
proached the  building  with  the  towers.  A  beauti- 
ful lawn  with  flower  beds  surrounded  it,  and  its 
walls,  save  where  there  were  windows,  were  covered 
with  vines.  The  towers  alone  showed  its  clean 
shingly  covered  sides. 

The  large  porch  that  she  remembered  gloomy  and 
weed  o'er-grown,  was  well  shaded  and  neatly  paint- 
ed, and  the  three  hammocks  and  many  rockers  on 
its  floor  were  most  solicitous.    She  walked  up  the 


266        A   BUNCH    OF    LITTLE   THIEVES 

few  steps  leading  to  it  very  cautiously,  and  looked 
about  for  the  door  bell.  The  doors  were  wide  open, 
and  the  few  times  she  rang  the  bell  her  ringing  was 
unanswered.  At  the  opposite  end  of  the  spacious 
hallway  was  another  door,  and  it,  too,  was  wide 
open.  She  entered  the  hallway,  thinking  that  some 
one  might  be  found  in  the  court  yard.  The  hallway 
was  very  beautifully  ornamented  with  photographs 
in  sepia,  of  the  scenery  about  the  hill,  framed  in 
home-made  mission  picture  frames,  with  a  num- 
ber of  wooden  hatracks,  with  several  very  neat  lit- 
tle hall  tables,  under  light  bulbs,  and  with  light 
green  clay  jardinieres,  holding  wide-leafed  plants, 
some  of  which  rose  high  enough  to  reach  the  mould- 
ing. A  large  desk  and  three  very  long  leather-cush- 
ioned seats  made  up  the  furniture  of  this  large  cor- 
ridor, and  were  neatly  arranged  about  the  several 
open  doors  and  the  stairway.  She  slowly  walked 
the  entire  length  of  the  hall  floor  and  came  to  a 
point  where  she  could  look  over  the  entire  court 
yard.  It  consisted,  first,  of  a  cement  floor  connect- 
ed with  the  back  porch  and  a  number  of  wooden 
steps,  and  beyond  that  a  rather  wide  lawn,  with 
pebbled  walks,  flower  beds,  and  a  number  of  large 
trees,  between  several  pairs  of  which  hung  red  and 
tan  hammocks.  One  of  these  was  occupied  by  a 
stout  lady,  enjoying  her  afternoon  nap. 

The  pathway  in  the  center  wound  about  a  two- 
story  shop  and  out  again  upon  a  large  athletic  field, 
one  corner  of  which  had  been  turned  into  a  tennis 
court,  where  half  a  dozen  girls  were  playing  tennis. 

She  watched  them  for  a  few  minutes,  then 
turned  and  retraced  her  steps,  expecting  to  take  a 
seat  on  the  front  porch  and  to  wait  until  some  one 


A    BUNCH    OF   LITTLE    THIEVES        267 

could  be  found  to  speak  to;  but  on  her  way  back 
she  found  the  sleeping  lady  awakened  and  rubbing 
the  half  sleepy  eyes  of  her  good-natured  face. 

"This  is  Mr.  Liton's  school,  is  it  not?" 

"Yes.    You  wish  to  see  Mr.  Liton?" 

"Yes,  I  would  like  to." 

"Can  you  wait  a  few  minutes?  I  expect  them 
home  any  minute  now.  They  come  in  about  this 
time  every  day  for  a  swim." 

"I  have  plenty  of  time.     I  can  wait." 

"Will  you  have  a  rocker  or  that  hammock?" 
asked  the  lady  of  the  house  very  politely.  "I  think 
the  hammock  is  much  more  comfortable,  and  you 
look  tired.  Take  off  your  hat  and  make  yourself  at 
home.    It  has  been  very  hot,  hasn't  it?" 

She  sat  down  upon  the  hammock  as  one  would 
upon  a  chair,  and  continued  looking  at  and  admir- 
ing this  motherly  woman,  whoever  she  may  have 
been. 

"There  they  come  now,"  said  the  lady,  rising. 
"I  didn't  think  they  were  coming  so  soon.  It's  time 
to  ring  the  bell." 

She  walked  up  on  the  little  porch  and  pulled  a 
rope  that  hung  alongside  of  the  wall,  nearly  hidden 
by  the  vines  that  crept  over  it.  A  great  bell  sounded 
once,  twice,  three  times  over  the  hill.  Immediately 
the  tennis  players,  in  girl  fashion,  armed  and  in 
groups,  left  their  court  and  made  for  the  house. 
From  the  cornfield  came  three  of  the  boys,  while 
Mr.  Liton  and  a  crowd  of  other  boys  came  from 
another  field.  All  of  them  rushed  up  the  stair- 
ways to  their  different  rooms  and  substituted  bath- 
ing-suits for  the  clothes  they  had  been  wearing. 
Even  Mother  Atkins  and  her  husband,  the  most  good- 


268        A   BUNCH    OF   LITTLE   THIEVES 

natured  couple  that  ever  breathed,  went  to  their 
rooms  to  put  their  suits  on.  Mr.  Roland,  too,  went 
for  his  room,  while  Mr.  Liton,  who  was  informed  of 
a  visitor,  went  into  the  court  yard  with  his  overalls 
on  and  his  shirt  sleeves  rolled  up. 

"How  do  you  do?"  he  said  politely,  but  when 
the  young  woman  turned  to  greet  him,  a  smile 
spread  all  over  his  face,  both  his  hands  stretched 
out  to  grasp  hers,  and  shaking  his  head,  he  went 
on:  "Well,  well,  well!  Is  this  a  hallucination,  or 
are  you  really  before  me?" 

"As  far  as  I'm  aware,"  she  answered  softly,  turn- 
ing her  head  slightly,  "I  think  I  am  quite  real.  There 
are  times  when  I  am  uncertain." 

"Rolan,  Rolan,  hurry  down  here." 

Several  boys  peeped  out  of  their  respective  win- 
dows.   Then  Rolan's  face  was  seen. 

"Hello,  the  idea!"  he  cried,  pulled  his  head  in, 
replaced  his  clothes,  and  was  soon  running  down 
the  stairway. 

He  shook  her  hand  long  and  fervently.  "How 
are  you?    How  are  you,  and  how  is  Miss  Cane?" 

"'Miss  Cane  is  all  right,  now,  for  all  time,  1 
guess." 

"What  do  you  mean?" 

"Poor  Nida  died  just  about  a  year  ago." 

"And  you  people  never  wrote  to  us,"  said  Liton, 
with  a  sorrowful  expression  on  his  face. 

"Really,  do  not  l3lame  me.  I  shall  explain  in 
every  detail — everything  that  happened,  and  you 
will  then  understand." 

"Died  of  consumption,  did  she?"  Rolan  asked, 
almost  sobbing. 

"Yes." 


A   BUNCH   OF   LITTLE    THIEVES        269 

"Poor,  poor  girl,"  cried  Liton,  "she  was  a  martyr, 
if  ever  there  was  one." 

"Oh,  how  she  suffered!  I  feel  it  less  terribly 
now,  but  oh,  it  is  such  a  horrible  death,"  went  on 
Miss  Britter  with  a  far  away  look  in  her  eyes.  "She 
spoke  to  me  until  nearly  the  end,  but  during  her 
last  few  days  she  was  a  little  confused.  She  never 
stopped  talking  of  Abolt  and  the  boys,  and  the  last 
minute  she  must  have  been  thinking  of  little  Lud- 
wig — she  mentioned  his  name  several  times.  It 
was  terrible,  let's  try  to  forget  it," 

They  were  quiet  for  a  few  minutes,  then  Mr. 
Liton  spoke,  "We  have  several  of  the  boys  that  you 
know,  here." 

"Who  are  they?  How  did  you  come  to  get 
them?" 

"I  got  on  the  right  side  of  one  of  the  judges  of 
the  Children's  Court  by  inviting  him  out  here  and 
giving  him  a  good  time.  Of  course  when  he  saw 
the  place  he  said  he  wished  he  could  send  all  the 
children  here  that  come  before  him,  and  now  when- 
ever I  want  any  particular  boy,  I  just  speak  to  him 
about  it.    You  know  Michael  Roate,  don't  you?" 

"Yes,  sure." 

"Well,  Michael  ran  away  from  Abolt  about  a 
year  after  we  left,  and  Judge  Willis  refused  to  let 
Krammer  take  him  back.  Oh,  we  had  quite  a  time. 
Krammer,  Reilly,  an  awful-looking  new  principal, 
and  Miss  Brand  came  to  court  to  testify.  I  had 
Michael  with  me,  and  together  we  told  the  court  a 
few  things,  and  Krammer  left  like  a  whipped  dog." 

"I  can  imagine  how  he  looked.  Did  he  turn 
pale?" 


270        A   BUNCH    OF   LITTLE    THIEVES 

"Pale,"  cried  Rolan,  "you  couldn't  tell  where  his 
collar  ended." 

"He  was  so  mad,"  went  on  Liton,  "he  almost 
fainted;  and  I  heard  from  no  gossipers  either,  that 
he  promised  to  get  good  and  even  with  me.  So  far, 
however,  the  only  deal  between  him  and  me,  was 
when  I  took  Ernest  and  Jack  away  from  him." 

"Are  they  here,  too?" 

The  bathers  began  to  pour  down  into  the  court 
yard.  Twenty  well-developed,  good-looking  boys, 
with  their  sunburnt  arms  and  shoulders  exposed, 
Mother  and  Mr.  Atkins,  and  seven  girls.  Some  were 
well-developed  and  beautiful  as  only  girlhood  and 
boyhood  can  be,  but  a  few  of  the  newcomers  were 
still  faintly  marked  with  the  stigma  of  the  street. 

They  all  started  on  a  run  for  the  swimming  pool, 
while  the  three  Abolt  boys,  who  recognized  Miss 
Britter,  came  up  to  greet  her. 

"What  big  boys  you  have  grown  to  be,"  said 
Miss  Britter,  "you  are  almost  men  novi^." 

The  boys  fairly  jumped  about  her  with  delight, 
they  were  so  glad  to  see  her.  They  talked  of  Abolt 
School,  telling  unrestrainedly  what  they  thought 
about  the  different  officers  there,  and  describing  in 
detail,  their  different  escapes. 

"Are  you  going  to  stay  here?"  asked  Michael, 
feeling  that  it  was  wrong  for  them  to  keep  talking 
to  Miss  Britter  so  long,  when  Mr.  Rolan  and  Mr. 
Liton  hadn't  seen  her  for  so  many  years. 

Mr.  Liton  answered  for  her,  "Yes,  Miss  Britter  is 
going  to  stay  and  work  with  us." 

Miss  Britter  smiled. 

"Well,  then  we  will  be  able  to  see  more  of  you," 


A   BUNCH    OF   LITTLE    THIEVES         271 

said  Michael  again,  and  started  ofT  for  the  swim- 
ming pool. 

"Is  Miss  Cane  coming,  too?"  asked  Jack,  stop- 
ping for  a  minute. 

"Miss  Cane  can  never  come  here,  Jack.  She  died 
last  year." 

Jack  said  nothing,  but  his  eyes  were  quickly 
moistened,  and  with  the  other  two  young  men,  he 
walked  away,  very  slowly.  Miss  Cane  had  been  his 
favorite  teacher  and  his  childish  ideal  of  a  woman, 
and  among  the  many  things  he  hoped  to  do  when 
he  grew  up  to  be  a  man  was  to  be  a  real  friend  of 
Miss  Cane,  not  a  boy  friend;  and  he,  on  the  other 
hand,  had  been  her  favorite.  Didn't  she  buy  him  a 
beautiful  pair  of  fur  gloves,  and  didn't  she  buy  him 
a  sled?  The  sled  and  the  gloves  had  long  been  de- 
stroyed, but  the  feeling  that  had  accompanied  those 
lifeless  things  was  destined  to  live  as  long  as  Jack's 
heart  beat  and  to  grow  in  intensity  as  the  meaning 
of  life  became  clearer  to  him. 

"I  want  to  ask  so  many  things,"  began  Miss  Brit- 
ter,  after  they  had  had  something  to  say  about  Jack 
and  his  relations  to  Miss  Cane. 

"You  knew,  of  course,  that  we  started  this  school, 
didn't  you?" 

"Oh,  yes,"  Miss  Britter  replied,  trying  hard  to 
resist  her  desire  to  sleep,  "I  received  the  letter  you 
sent  me  just  after  you  had  your  plans  laid  out." 

"Really,"  began  Rolan,  "you  look  as  though  you 
need  a  bed  much  more  than  you  do  this  informa- 
tion." 

"I  am  terribly  sleepy.  I  don't  think  I  hnve  had 
a  night's  sleep  this  week." 


272        A   BUNCH    OF   LITTLE   THIEVES 

"Well,  you  go  right  up,  take  a  warm  bath  and 
go  to  bed.    Are  you  hungry?" 

"Couldn't  eat  a  thing  if  I  tried." 

"I'm  sorry  I  didn't  ask  Marguerite  to  stay  and 
help  you." 

"Oh,  no.  I'm  glad  you  didn't.  Just  show  me 
where  things  are;  I'll  help  myself." 

"She  wouldn't  mind.  She's  a  lovely  girl.  She'd 
be  glad  to  help  you." 

"Oh,  I  think  this  is  the  dearest  place  I  have  ever 
been  in.  I  wish  I  weren't  so  sleepy.  You  must  give 
me  a  job.    I  won't  leave  if  you  want  me  to." 

"I  think  this  belongs  to  you  as  much  as  it  does 
to  anybody  else,"  said  Liton,  "but  now  go  on  and 
attend  to  yourself." 

An  elderly  man  came  sauntering  along  through 
the  hallway,  stopped  at  the  back  door  and  looked 
out  over  the  court  yard. 

"Who's  that?" 

"That  is  our  music  teacher,  Mr.  Munsen.  He  can 
teach  violin,  piano  and  cello.  And  he  plays  all  of 
them  beautifully." 

"Aren't  you  going  for  a  swim,  Mr.  Munsen," 
called  out  Rolan. 

"Maybe  I  will,"  came  back,  with  a  slight  Ger- 
man accent. 

"He  always  answers  that  way — 'Maybe  I  will,' " 
whispered  Liton,  "but  he  is  a  lovelv  old  man." 

"Do  come." 

"I'd  like  to  have  you  meet  a  friend  of  ours  and 
our  school,"  said  Liton  again,  addressing  himself 
to  the  old  musician.  "She  used  to  be  the  principal 
at  Abolt  when  we  were  there." 


A   BUNCH   OF   LITTLE    THIEVES        273 

"Oh,  in  that  horrible  place."  Mr.  Munsen  came 
towards  them  and  very  courteously  took  off  his 
panama,  and  shook  her  hand  very  warmly.  "Yes, 
yes,  I  am  very  glad  to  meet  you.  A  friend  of  this 
school  will  always  be  a  friend  of  mine." 

"Mr.  Munsen  has  already,  in  the  two  years  that 
he  has  been  here  developed  a  quartette,  and  they  are 
doing  beautifully.  He  loves  children,  and  is  a  splen- 
did violinist.    Just  wait  till  you  hear  him." 

Mr.  Munsen,  a  little  stout,  with  a  very  good- 
natured,  but  always  serious-looking,  reddish  face, 
perspiring  considerably,  took  the  praise  as  a  matter 
of  course,  feeling  that  it  was  all  due  him,  excused 
himself,  and  went  to  prepare  for  the  swimming 
pool. 

Miss  Britter  was  shown  the  reflecting  room  in 
the  tower  and  had  matters  arranged  for  her  there, 
then  shown  one  of  the  three  white  lovely  bathrooms, 
and  left  to  herself.  Mr.  Liton  and  Mr.  Rolan  fol- 
lowed the  music  teacher  to  the  swimming  pool. 

"Oh,  this  poor,  poor  world,"  cried  Miss  Britter 
to  herself,  while  examining  everything  in  the  small 
white  tiled  room.  "How  healthy  and  happy  we 
could  all  be.  Why  shouldn't  we  all  be  happy?  Why 
should  the  miserable  necessities  keep  so  many  of  us 
away  from  our  happiness?  Had  poor  Nida  had  all 
this  she  would  still  be  living."  She  thought  of  con- 
sumptive Nida's  starving  and  cried. 

Through  with  her  bath  and  feeling  free  from 
the  dust  and  soot  of  so  many  miles  of  traveling,  she 
climbed  the  neat  stairway  to  the  reflecting  room 
in  the  tower. 

If  ever  there  was  a  room  equipped  for  resting 
purposes,  this  one  was.    Two  of  its  four  walls  were 


274         A    BUNCH    OF    LITTLE    THIEVES 

made  of  interlocking  windows,  and  one  was  almost 
all  door,  leading  to  a  very  narrow  balcony,  from 
which  the  juvenile  astronomers  watched  their  stars. 
A  telescope  fixed  in  its  stand,  stood  against  a  corn- 
er, and  in  a  small  cabinet  near  it,  were  filed  many 
maps  and  charts  of  the  heavens.  On  the  solid  wall 
and  in  the  two  or  three  wooden  spaces  between  the 
windows  of  the  other  walls,  hung  colored  astronomi- 
cal prints  and  one  dreamy  landscape,  in  home-made 
mission  frames,  to  match  the  dark  green  mission 
woodwork. 

Miss  Britter  stood  for  a  few  moments  after  ex- 
amining the  room  and  gazed  longingly  down  the 
valley.  Then,  pulling  the  shutters  to,  she  turned 
the  couch  so  that  when  lying  on  it,  she  could  see 
the  landscape,  fell  upon  it,  and  gave  way  to  deep 
slumber. 


CHAPTER    II 

THE  VISION   UNFOLDS   ITS   REALITY 

She  opened  her  eyes  again.  What  had  awakened 
her,  she  did  not  know.  But  it  came  again.  A  sound 
of  music,  a  start  and  a  sudden  stop.  Mr.  Munsen 
was  practicing  with  his  quartette.  At  times  the 
strings  sounded  crude,  at  others  they  were  divine. 
They  \A'ould  sing  out  in  harmony,  and  a  mistake 
would  stop  them.  There  were  the  pictures  on  the 
wall,  the  dreamy  landscape,  and  the  shepherd  with 
his  sheep ;  the  strangely  colored,  fiery  worlds  floating 
about  in  mysterious  space,  intensely  blue.  There 
were  the  windows  and  the  door,  and  upon  every- 
thing the  spell  of  music,  of  evening,  and  of  nature, 
with  its  scent  of  flowers;  feelings  and  sensations  of 
sadness  and  beauty,  of  the  tragedy  of  human  exis- 
tence— feelings  experienced  by  those  who  have  lived, 
seen,  felt  and  suflered,  who  fall  asleep  and  awake 
into  the  quietude  of  an  early  evening.  She  lay  that 
way  for  some  time.  Thoughts  serged  in  and  out  of 
her  consciousness.  Dream  upon  dream,  and  recol- 
lection after  recollection  lit  up  and  died  away  like 
the  flashes  of  a  lighthouse  to  the  sea- weary  voyager; 
and  a  great  soul-desire  possessed  her. 

A  rap  on  the  door  broke  up  her  reverie, 
A  little  girl  of  about  seventeen,  the  oldest  girl 
at  the  school,  with  a  soft,  delicate  pink  face  and  an 
exceptional  amount  of  Hght  brown  hair,  a  mis- 
chievous expression  playing  about  between  two 
small  dimples,  and  wearing  a  neatly  pressed  white 
apron  and  cap.  came  in. 


276        A   BUNCH    OF   LITTLE   THIEVES 

"Supper  will  soon  be  ready,  and  I  came  to  help 
you,"  she  said,  eyeing  the  strange  woman. 

"Sit  down  with  me  for  just  two  minutes,  will 
you,  dear?" 

She  sat  down  upon  the  lower  end  of  the  couch. 

"Have  you  been  here  long?" 

"Yes,  ma'm,  very  long.     I  was  one  of  the  first 
girls  to  come  here." 
.     "Your  father  and  mother  live  in  the  city?" 

"I  have  no  father  and  mother.  I  lived  with  an 
aunt,  but  she  mistreated  me,  and  I  ran  away,  and 
did  other  things  I  shouldn't  have,  and  now  I  am 
here,  and  I  hope  I  never  have  to  go." 

"Don't  think  of  going,  my  dear." 

"I  like  to  go  to  the  city  sometimes,  but  I  always 
come  back  very  tired.  I  feel  much  better  here.  Are 
you  going  to  stay  with  us?" 

"I  am  not  certain,  dear,  whether  I  shall  or  not. 
If  I  can  I  will." 

"Mr.  Liton  says  you  will." 

"Does  he?"     Miss  Britter  smiled. 

"Oh,  I'm  sure  you'll  like  it.  It  was  hard  for  me 
at  first — it  used  to  seem  so  lonesome,  no  matter  how 
many  people  were  here,  but  now  I  think  it's  just  the 
nicest  place  on  earth.  We  have  plenty  to  do  and 
a  great  deal  of  fun  too.  You  can't  have  any  more 
than  that  in  the  city.  We  learn  a  lot  here.  We 
make  our  own  clothes,  and  Mr.  Munsen  is  teaching 
me  to  play  the  piano.    Did  you  hear  us  practicing?" 

"Yes.  It  is  beautiful.  I  heard  you  play  just 
as  I  woke  up.  I  think  it  was  the  most  beautiful 
sound  I  ever  heard.    What  did  you  play?" 

"We  were  just  practicing.  We  played  many 
things." 


A   BUNCH    OF   LITTLE    THIEVES        277 

"What  happy  people  you  ought  to  be." 

"We  are.  When  I  go  back  to  the  city  and  I 
remind  myself  of  the  terrible  times  I  used  to  have 
at  my  aunt's,  I  begin  to  worry  that  something  might 
happen,  don't  you  know,  that  would  send  me  back 
again  to  my  aunt  or  let  me  go  out  to  fight  for 
myself." 

"Musn't  feel  that  way.  Mr.  Liton  will  never 
let  any  of  you  go  out  and  be  lost.  Besides  if  you 
ever  did  go,  you  would  have  to  fight  as  hard  as  you 
did  have  to  before  you  came.  You  have  a  better 
education  now.  You  can  do  many  things  you 
couldn't  do  before." 

"I  really  am  not  afraid.  I  just  think  about  it 
sometimes." 

"I  suppose  we  ought  to  go  down  now." 

"Yes,  please,"  said  Marguerite,  "I  don't  like  to 
be  late." 

They  prepared  for  supper  quickly,  and  went 
down  into  the  dining  room,  where  the  entire  family 
was  already  gathered.  Three  boys,  dressed  in  white 
coats  and  aprons,  waited.  There  was  not  much  to 
be  done,  for  most  of  the  food  was  already  on  the 
table.  They  helped  by  changing  dishes  when  neces- 
sary, filling  others  when  empty,  and  bringing  the 
desert.  A  little  table  stood  neatly  spread  near  a  win- 
dow. This  table  was  to  be  used  by  the  waiters 
when  through  with  their  work,  and  they  felt  bet- 
ter towards  their  work,  since  they  were  to  eat  at  a 
clean  table  when  through.  There  were  two  large 
tables  and  sixteen  chairs  about  each.  Mr.  Liton,  Mr. 
Munsen,  four  of  the  girls  and  eight  of  tiie  boys  sat 
at  one  of  the  tables,  and  Mr.  Rolan,  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Atkins  and  the  rest  of  the  boys  and  girls  sat  at  the 


278        A   BUNCH   OP   LITTLE   THIEVES 

other.  Miss  Britter  was  given  a  seat  at  Mr.  Liton's 
table  between  Michael  and  Ernest,  who  sat  near 
each  other. 

The  dining  room  was  very  simply  arranged.  A 
number  of  prints  hung  on  the  walls.  There  were 
many  windows  and  the  room  was  very  light.  Both 
doors  and  windows  were  heavily  screened,  so  that 
few,  if  any  flies,  could  have  been  seen.  Mother  At- 
kins was  very  careful  about  that. 

Big  pitchers  full  of  milk  graced  the  middle  and 
end  of  each  table,  and  about  them  were  platters  full 
of  tomatoes,  lettuce,  potatoes,  beans,  summer  rad- 
ishes, raw  carrots,  eggs,  and  plenty  of  good  whole 
wheat  bread  and  butter.  The  day's  work  and  pleas- 
ure made  everybody  hungry  and  they  ate  a  great 
deal.  Almost  everything  on  the  table  was  eaten  up 
and  more  was  brought.  The  waiters  walked  about 
the  room  and  saw  to  it  that  everybody  had  what  he 
wanted. 

The  noise  was  immense  for  so  small  a  room. 
There  was  talking  and  laughing,  and  on  the  part 
of  the  younger  people,  sometimes  so  loudly  that  Mr. 
Liton  or  Mother  Atkins,  or  some  of  the  older  peo- 
ple were  forced  to  call  their  attention,  but  never 
was  an  individual  called  upon.  As  soon  as  they 
were  informed  that  there  was  too  much  noise  the 
excited  individual  who  was  referred  to,  calmed 
down. 

"Did  you  rest  well?"  asked  Mr.  Liton,  addressing 
Miss  Britter. 

"Yes,  thank  you.    I  feel  very  much  better  now." 

"What  do  you  think  of  this  place?" 

Miss  Britter  shook  her  head.     "I  can't  express 


A   BUNCH    OF   LITTLE    THIEVES        279 

myself.    It  seems  that  you  have  here  everything  that 
Abolt  lacked." 

"That's  been  my  mission." 
The  waiters  took  some  of  the  dishes  on  the  ta- 
ble out  into  the  kitchen  and  came  back  with  plat- 
ters of  large  ears  of  corn, 

"What  do  you  think  of  our  corn,  Miss  Britter?" 
asked  Michael.  "You  never  saw  anything  like  it  at 
Abolt,  did  you?" 

"I  don't  think  I  have  seen  anything  like  it  any- 
where; at  least  not  in  such  quantities." 

"You  ought  to  see  the  stuff  the  farmers  grow 
down  the  hill,"  suggested  Jack. 

"We  get  ten  ears  to  every  one  of  theirs  from 
the  same  amount  of  ground,  and  we  get  better  look- 
ing ears  and  really  don't  have  to  work  as  hard." 
The  discussion  on  scientific  agriculture  was  car- 
ried on  at  Mr.  Liton's  end  of  the  table,  while  the  rest 
of  the  boys  and  girls  continued  their  laughter  and 
noise,  till  the  table  was  partially  cleared  and  the 
desert  was  brought. 

After  supper  the  hammocks  and  outdoor  rockers 
were  in  great  demand.  Every  one  was  allowed  to 
rest  for  half  an  hour,  during  which  time  the  waiters 
ate  their  meal.  Then  Mother  Atkins  announced  it 
time  to  clean  up,  and  the  smaller  boys  and  the  girls, 
having  learned  from  experience  that  it  was  very 
necessary  to  go  in  at  once,  and  only  a  very  good 
excuse  was  accepted,  made  for  the  kitchen  and  din- 
ing room,  and  worked  like  beavers  to  get  rid  of  the 
job  as  soon  as  possible.  The  girls  washed  the  dishes 
and  the  boys  dried  them,  and  they  were  allowed  to 
laugh  and  joke  all  they  pleased  so  long  as  they  con- 
tinued working.    In  that  way  the  unpleasant  work 


280        A   BUNCH   OF   LITTLE   THIEVES 

often  became  so  interesting,  that  boys  who  were 
supposed  to  work  at  the  barn  often  asked  to  be  al- 
lowed to  help  in  the  kitchen.  Duster,  broom  and 
dustpan  were  set  in  motion,  and  in  a  single  hour  the 
place  was  as  clean  as  ever  before. 

The  older  boys  with  the  men,  made  for  the  barns 
and  garden.  Some  milked  the  cows,  some  fixed  the 
barns  up  for  the  night,  and  the  rest  went  out  into  the 
garden,  weeding  and  hoeing,  for  only  in  the  high 
cornfield  could  one  hoe  comfortably  on  hot  sunny 
days.  When  the  people  in  the  house  and  in  the  barn 
were  through  with  their  work,  the  fellows  out  in 
the  garden  were  called  in  by  the  ringing  of  the  bell, 
and  every  one  washed  and  put  on  clean  comforta- 
ble clothes. 

"They  have  looked  forward  to  this  night  for 
some  time,"  Mr.  Liton  told  Miss  Britter,  "we  have  a 
party  to-night.  This  takes-place  every  two  weeks. 
The  girls  bake  a  great  many  things,  make  chocolate, 
or  lemonade  when  its  warm,  and  we  spend  most  of 
the  evening  and  part  of  the  night  near  the  swimming 
pool.  Mr.  Munsen  takes  his  violin  and  plays  for  us 
out  doors." 

"What  wonder  that  these  children  love  this 
place." 

"Well,  I'll  tell  you,  Miss  Britter.  I  figure  this 
way.  The  great  struggle  of  the  race  is  all  for  hap- 
piness. When  we  get  to  the  point  where  we  are 
certain  we  shall  never  again  be  happy,  we  commit 
suicide.  I  can't  make  these  people  love  this  place 
by  making  life  for  them  one  grand  sermon  on  what 
is  right  or  wrong,  that  is  certain.  I'm  going  to  do 
all  I  possibly  can  to  make  them  happy,  and  so  long 
as  I  do  that  they'll  love  this  place  and  not  only  that, 


A   BUNCH    OF   LITTLE    THIEVES        281 

but  they  will  believe  in  me,  and  my  teaching  will 
make  impressions.  You  can't  get  away  from  the 
fact  that  pleasure  is  all  that  all  of  us  seek,  in  one 
form  or  another,  but  pleasure  it  is.  Children  aren't 
unreasonable.  When  they  realize  that  I  am  really 
trying  hard  to  make  them  happy,  they  won't  refuse 
to  be  reasonable  when  I  don't  do  just  as  they  would 
like  me  to." 

Many  of  the  boys,  acting  like  little  Indians,  gath- 
ered paper  and  wood  and  ran  towards  the  swimming 
pool,  screaming  or  singing  as  they  ran.  The  girls 
carried  the  refreshments  that  they  had  made.  Mr. 
Atkins  carried  a  large  kettle,  together  with  the  neces- 
saries for  the  making  of  lemonade,  and  some  of  the 
boys  carried  pails  of  water  and  glasses. 

The  swimming  pool  was  a  well-cemented,  very 
large  cellar,  about  as  big  as  six  ordinary  sized  cel- 
lars, three  feet  deep  on  one  side  and  sloping  to  ten 
feet  on  the  other.  It  was  not  far  from  the  tennis 
court,  and  was  nearly  surrounded  by  shrubs  and 
maple  trees.  A  fence  protected  night  prowlers  from 
falling  in,  and  a  large  sandy  spot  in  front  was  used 
as  a  beach,  upon  which  a  camp  fire  could  safely 
blaze  away.  A  spring  coming  from  a  part  of  the 
hill  higher  up  on  one  side  fed  the  pool,  and  a 
buried  drain-pipe  emptied  the  water  into  a  creek 
below  when  desired. 

The  camp  fire  lighted  and  the  programme  was 
planned.  There  were  to  be  games,  music  and  re- 
freshments. For  fully  an  hour  the  younger  people 
played  tag  and  other  games,  while  the  older  ones 
sat  about  the  camp  fire  singing. 

Then  Mr.  Munsen  played  his  violin,  one  of  the 
violin  solos  that  Miss  Britter  had  heard  so  many 


282        A   BUNCH    OF   LITTLE   THIEVES 

times  in  Mr.  Staver's  sitting-room  at  Abolt.  Each 
note  seemed  to  bring  a  recollection  of  its  own.  Def- 
inite pictures,  of  her  office,  the  roadways,  the  cot- 
tages, the  farm,  the  hills  about  Abolt,  the  valleys, 
the  dilapidated  house  and  the  black  cellar  hole  and 
its  ruins,  the  boys,  and  Nida.  These  recollections 
brought  sensations,  and  the  sensations  blended  with 
a  feeling  of  evening,  of  sparkling  water,  of  the 
camp-fire  and  happy  children,  and  music, — and 
she  stared  into  the  flames  until  the  intense  brightness 
of  the  red  and  yellow  flooded  her  vision  and  she 
saw  nothing  definitely,  every  thing  was  turned  to 
sound  and  color — the  past  and  present  broke  into 
the  elements  of  a  dream. 

Mr.  Munsen  played  several  numbers.  Then  re- 
freshments were  served  and  the  real  fun  began. 
All  the  pranks  of  boyhood,  all  the  sweet,  alluring 
coquetries  of  innocent  girlhood  were  revealed  in  the 
process  of  their  merry-making;  and,  without  sham 
or  strain,  with  sincerity  and  keenest  joy  this  little 
drama,  acted  under  the  clear  summer  night  sky  in 
the  poetic  light  of  their  beloved  bonfire,  disclosed 
their  guidance  by  a  philosophy  that  all  their  elders 
well  might  strive  to  understand. 

Mr.  Munsen  and  Father  and  Mother  Atkins  soon 
after  retired.  Miss  Britter,  Mr.  Rolan,  and  Mr.  Liton 
went  off  to  one  side,  where  seated  on  rustic  benches, 
they  retraced  the  steps  they  had  taken  during  the 
three  years  that  preceded. 

"Poor  Nida,"  said  Miss  Britter,  "a  place  like  this 
would  have  saved  her  life." 

"Why  didn't  you  write?"  Rolan  asked  impa- 
tiently. 


A   BUNCH    OF   LITTLE    THIEVES        283 

"1  don't  know,"  she  answered.  "We  felt  that 
you  had  troubles  enough  of  your  own." 

"It  is  purely  a  case  of  martyrdom,"  Liton  sug- 
gested. 

"There's  no  doubt  about  that.  I  told  her  doctor 
of  the  conditions  at  Abolt,  of  the  bad  food  and 
the  cold  rooms  and  the  endless  worry  and  strug- 
gle, and  he  said  that  if  we  had  left  a  few 
months  earlier  she  would  have  been  able  to  recover. 
You  see  we  had  so  much  trouble  financially  after 
we  did  leave.  The  railroad  expenses  were  so  great. 
It  was  so  hard  for  me  to  get  work,  and  when  I  did 
get  it,  it  was  impossible  for  me  to  give  her  the  ser- 
vice that  she  required.  For  weeks  I  did  my  sleeping 
on  a  chair  beside  her.    Oh,  it  was  terrible!" 

"Well,  don't  think  about  it  any  more,"  pleaded 
Liton. 

"Tell  me  how  you  managed  to  accomplish  all 
this,"  she  began,  anxious  to  do  her  share  of  dis- 
pelling the  gloom  that  thoughts  of  the  past  had 
brought  with  them. 

"In  my  second  letter,  which  apparently  you  did 
not  receive,  I  told  you  that  I  got  hold  of  a  very  rich 
individual  by  the  name  of  Mr.  Storton,  who  gave 
me  twenty  thousand  dollars  to  set  things  going.  He's 
now  in  Europe,  but  will  be  back  this  fall  and  you 
can  meet  him.  He's  a  very  interesting  character. 
But  to  come  back  to  my  story,  we  immediately  got 
after  the  owner  of  this  place  and  paid  him  Vive  thou- 
sand for  the  buildings  that  you  see  and  one  hundred 
acres  of  land.  We  have  fourteen  cows  and  eight 
little  calves;  we  have  chickens  and  ducks,  and  raise 
garden  truck.  You  will  get  to  know  the  details  as 
you  stay  here  and  work  with  us.    We  make  all  our 


284        A   BUNCH    OF   LITTLE   THIEVES 

living  expenses  from  the  farm,  and  every  now  and 
then  make  more  than  enough  to  cover  expenses. 
We  also  earn  quite  a  little  v^^ith  woodworking  and 
photography.  We  have  a  furniture  dealer  in  Hill- 
dale  who  buys  our  furniture  and  picture  frames  and 
photographic  prints.  He  takes  all  we  can  give  him. 
The  first  two  years  we  lived  on  the  twenty  thousand 
dollars  that  we  started  with.  At  the  end  of  those  two 
years,  after  fixing  this  place  up  just  as  you  see  it, 
we  had  five  thousand  dollars  left,  and  that  I  placed 
in  a  bank  where  it  is  drawing  interest,  and  where  it 
will  not  be  touched  unless  we  are  in  grave  need." 
"Do  they  earn  anything  for  themselves?" 
"Oh,  yes.  We  started  out  with  the  idea  that  this 
is  a  commonwealth  that  is  to  be  managed  by  its 
citizens.  Each  individual  must  find  his  or  her  place, 
and  do  his  or  her  share  of  the  necessary  work.  We 
feel  that  whoever  does  his  share,  whoever  does  all 
that  he  can  do,  is  doing  all  that  should  be  expected 
of  him,  and  that  nobody  can  do  any  more.  Should 
anyone  try  to  do  less  than  that  by  shirking,  every 
time  he  is  convicted  of  that  offence  by  a  jury,  he 
is  fined  whatever  the  jury  thinks  he  should  be  fined 
and  that  is  held  against  him.  When  the  end  of  the 
year  comes,  and  we  have  figured  out  the  amount 
that  we  have  earned  above  the  amount  that  we  have 
spent,  and  have  decided  upon  how  much  shall  be 
kept  by  the  school  and  how  much  is  due  each  of 
the  individual  workers,  all  who  have  worked  during 
the  entire  year  get  the  same  amount;  each  individ- 
ual must  pay  to  the  school  out  of  his  share,  the  sum 
of  all  his  fines  during  the  year." 

The  three  older  girls  were  huddled  together  in  a 
group  on  one  side  of  the  fire,  and  the  older  boys,  in 


A   BUNCH   OF   LITTLE   THIEVES        285 

a  similar  group,  sat  opposite  them  on  the  other  side 
of  the  fire.  One  group  was  trying  to  outdo  the  other 
in  repartee  and  being  generally  witty.  At  a  distance 
from  them  a  number  of  boys  were  stretched  on  the 
sand,  while  the  rest  of  the  boys  and  girls  sat  about 
the  water  or  played  with  their  bare  feet  dangling  in 
it. 

"What  have  you  for  me  to  do  here?'^ 

"There'll  be  plenty  for  you  to  do.  Don't  you 
worry,"  said  Rolan. 

"Mother  Atkins  is  a  lovely  woman,  but  the  girls 
need  an  educated  woman  about  them.  That's  the 
place  you  will  fill." 

"Tell  me.  Where  did  you  get  such  a  nice  couple?" 

"They  were  living  on  a  farm  that  was  heavily 
mortgaged.  I  happened  to  pass  their  place,  'twas 
only  about  three  miles  towards  the  left  here,  and 
stopped  for  a  drink.  After  a  few  minutes  of  talking 
to  them,  I  made  up  my  mind  that  they  were  just  the 
people  I  wanted.  Mr.  Atkins  told  me  that  there  was 
a  rumor  that  the  mortgage  on  his  place  would  be 
foreclosed,  and  I  offered  them  the  position  they  now 
have.  They  were  delighted.  You  see  they  have  a 
good  home  assured  to  them,  and  whatever  we  can 
afford  to  give  them  each  year  they  are  willing  to 
take.  They  have  no  worries  whatever,  put  a  little 
into  the  bank,  and  since  they  like  children,  they 
have  a  great  deal  of  pleasure.  How  many  couples 
in  this  world  get  that  much  out  of  life?" 

It  was  time  to  retire  and  everybody  was  so  in- 
formed. 

One  by  one  and  group  by  group  they  arose  and 
stretched  their  limbs,  looking  very  nmch  like  a  brood 
of  sleepy  kittens  just  stirred. 


286        A   BUNCH   OF   LITTLE   THIEVES 

It  was  somewhat  cool.  The  girls  put  their  arms 
around  each  other  and  the  boys  carried  the  pails, 
plates,  and  glasses. 

The  hallway,  when  they  reached  it  through  the 
court  yard  door,  was  lit  up  by  a  soft  green  light. 
Mother  Atkins,  her  husband  and  Mr.  Munsen  were 
sound  asleep. 

Mr.  Liton,  Mr.  Rolan,  and  the  boys  slept  on  the 
second  floor,  while  the  girls'  bedrooms  were  on  the 
floor  above.  Miss  Britter  was  conducted  to  the  little 
room  that  was  to  be  hers,  and  when  she  was  left 
there  alone,  the  expressions  of  emotion  that  she  had 
been  forced  to  keep  back,  were  let  loose,  and  for 
sheer  happiness,  woman  fashion,  she  cried. 

Mr.  Liton  was  the  last  one  to  retire.  When  he 
thought  everybody  was  in  bed  he  walked  into  the 
court  yard,  glanced  over  all  the  windows,  the  shop, 
and  the  gateway,  stepped  up  to  the  wall,  where  the 
rope  was  held  by  strong  vines  and  leaves,  pulled  the 
bell  up  as  far  as  it  could  go,  and  dropped  it.  A 
thundering  gong  shook  the  air  above  the  hill  and 
woods,  and  softened  into  a  rounded  vibration  like 
that  of  the  string  of  a  'cello,  and  then  weakened  and 
was  lost.  Save  for  his  careful  steps  along  the  hall- 
way and  up  the  wide  staircase,  not  a  sound  was 
heard  anywhere. 


CHAPTER    III 

ONE    DAY    ON     TOWER    HILL 

It  was  five  o'clock  next  morning  when  the  bell 
again  called  out  over  the  hill,  and  announced  that 
those  who  wished  to  take  their  morning  swim  should 
don  their  bathing  suits  and  hurry  down.  Immedi- 
ately following  this  announcement,  noises  were 
heard  from  all  the  boys'  rooms,  for  no  matter  how 
strong  was  the  desire  to  continue  sleeping,  they 
would  rather  have  lost  their  breakfast  than  the 
morning  dive.  Some,  still  rubbing  their  eyes,  and 
others  stretching  to  dispel  all  traces  of  drowsiness, 
together  with  Mr.  Liton  and  Mr.  Rolan,  dashed  for 
the  pool,  each  anxious  to  be  the  first  to  dive  in. 

Plunge  after  plunge,  and  splash  after  splash  were 
heard  at  the  house,  and  the  yelling  and  screaming 
that  accompanied  each  plunge  and  splash  always 
awakened  the  girls,  who  persisted  in  sleeping  on. 
The  water  was  rather  cold  that  morning,  and  very 
few  did  more  than  cross  the  pool  two  or  three  times 
before  they  emerged  dripping,  shivering  and  laugh- 
ing, and  circulating  as  fast  as  they  could  on  the 
sandy  track  about  the  pool. 

"It  is  five-thirty  now,  boys,"  said  Mr.  Liton.  "We 
have  a  great  deal  of  work  to  do  to-day." 

By  the  time  they  returned  to  the  house  the  girls 
were  already  below  and  dressed,  and  before  many 
more  minutes  were  over  all  bathing  suits  were  hang- 
ing on  the  line  to  dry,  and  Mother  Atkins  was  try- 
ing very  hard  to  get  the  stove  into  good  working 
condition. 


288        A   BUNCH   OF   LITTLE   THIEVES 

The  boys  were  detailed  to  their  respective  work. 
Those  who  knew  how,  were  given  three  cows  each 
to  milk,  ten  of  the  boys  were  to  feed,  clean  and  comb 
the  horses,  while  the  three  smallest  boys  were  asked 
to  help  Mother  Atkins  in  the  house. 

"I  feel  like  getting  to  work  myself,"  said  Miss 
Britter, 

The  sun  had  sent  its  light  ahead  of  it,  and  then 
began  climbing  over  a  long  row  of  trees,  looking 
for  all  the  world  like  a  hedge  around  the  earth.  The 
air  was  clear,  full  of  fragrance,  and  exhilarating. 
From  the  barn  came  shouting,  whistling  and  sing- 
ing, and  the  noise  was  often  answered  by  farmer 
boys  away  below  toward  the  east. 

Breakfast  was  ready,  and  Marguerite  asked  Miss 
Britter  to  go  with  her  to  the  barn  and  watch  the 
boys  who  were  still  milking.  The  barn  was  on  the 
slope  of  the  hill  on  its  western  side  and  far  enough 
below  to  keep  from  obstructing  the  view. 

Most  of  the  boys  were  through,  and  one  was 
helping  his  friend,  pulling  away  at  the  udders  of 
the  last  cow,  whose  restlessness  proved  her  dislike 
of  the  method. 

"Can  you  milk,  Miss  Britter?"  asked  Ernest,  as 
soon  as  he  spied  her,  looking  under  the  cow  he  was 
milking  and  towards  the  right  of  his  helper.  "I 
guess  I  wasn't  cut  out  for  milking  cows." 

"Who  was  cut  out  for  it?"  demanded  George, 
a  lanky  individual  with  a  long,  pale  face  and  light 
hair,  neatly  combed. 

"It  won't  interfere  with  your  genius,  Ernest,  take 
it  from  me,"  suggested  Michael,  who  was  sitting 
on  a  stone  by  himself  peculiarly  affected  by  the 
presence  of  the  visitors, 


A    BUNCH    OF   LITTLE    THIEVES         289 

Miss  Britter  looked  at  them  admiringly.  What  a 
change  had  come  upon  both  of  them,  since  she  had 
last  seen  them.  Every  feature  of  their  faces,  though 
apparently  unchanged,  showed  the  influence  of  a 
better  outlook  upon  life  and  the  approach  to  man- 
hood. 

"My  dear  sir,"  Ernest  retorted,  "it's  very  nice  of 
you  fellows  to  accuse  me  of  genius,  even  though, 
coming  as  it  does,  it's  more  of  an  insult  than  a 
compliment.  But  who  cares?  'Let  me  essay  you,  0 
Muse!'" 

"Some  more  poetry,  poetry!"  some  one  shouted 
from  the  woodpile.  "Get  done  with  your  milking, 
and  do  your  tuning  by  yourself." 

"Cultured  people,  these,"  said  Ernest,  sarcastical- 
ly, shaking  his  head  in  the  direction  of  the  crowd 
of  boys,  and  addressing  himself  to  Miss  Britter. 

"If  that  cow  could  only  give  poetry  instead  of 
milk,"  put  in  a  little  fellow,  as  he  threw  a  stone 
over  the  trees  into  the  woods,  Ernest  would  be  the 
first  through." 

"Stop  all  that  fighting  and  bring  your  milk  to 
the  kitchen,"  cried  Marguerite.  "Everybody  is  wait- 
ing for  you  and  breakfast  will  be  cold." 

Everything  said  was  taken  with  a  good  grace 
and  the  milkmen  made  for  the  house  with  their 
milk. 

Mother  Atkins  announced  that  breakfast  was 
ready,  and  every  one  made  for  t!ie  dining  room  and 
took  his  or  her  place  about  the  tables. 

The  sun  broke  right  through  the  screen  on  the 
two  big  eastern  windows,  played  on  the  floor,  and 
dnnced  about  from  one  shining  dish  (o  another. 


290        A   BUNCH    OF   LITTLE    THIEVES 

The  three  boys,  whose  turn  it  was  to  wait  on  the 
table  that  day,  were  there  with  their  white  coats  and 
aprons,  and  helped  wherever  they  could.  A  small 
dish  of  huckleberries,  an  individual  small  pitcher  of 
cream,  one  or  two  glassfuls  of  milk,  some  summer 
radishes,  boiled  eggs,  and  plenty  of  bread  and  butter, 
constituted  each  one's  breakfast;  and  the  appetite 
they  gained  by  the  morning's  work  and  exuberant 
air  left  very  little  uneaten. 

Just  as  they  were  leaving  the  table,  the  truck 
peddler's  voice  was  heard  from  without,  and  Mr. 
Liton  went  out,  followed  by  most  of  the  boys,  to  at- 
tend to  him. 

"Good  morning,"  cried  the  peddler,  "what  have 
you  got  for  me  this  morning?" 

"Anything  you  want." 

He  then  enumerated  all  the  vegetables  he  wanted, 
and  Mr.  Liton  called  on  all  the  boys  to  go  for  them. 

The  wagon  was  soon  filled  with  several  bushels 
of  new  potatoes,  beets,  lettuce,  string  beans,  and  a 
great  deal  of  sweet  corn.  Everything  salable  was 
dug  up  and  brought.  This  was  every  boy's  sale,  and 
each  one  was  interested.  The  peddler  was  anxious 
to  buy  everything  that  was  brought  to  him,  it  being 
so  early  in  the  season  and  so  hard  for  the  other  ped- 
dlers to  get  all  they  w^anted. 

"Do  you  want  any  eggs?"  asked  George. 

"Sure,  how  many  you  got?" 

"We  can  let  you  have  thirty  dozen." 

"Sure,  come  ahead." 

The  thirty  dozen  eggs  were  hardly  on  the  wagon 
when  one  of  the  boys  suggested,  "You  want  some 
nice  summer  apples,  don't  you?  Nice  big  yellow 
ones." 


A   BUNCH   OF   LITTLE    THIEVES        291 

"Good  and  sweet?" 

"Wait,  ril  bring  you  some,"  said  the  little  fellow, 
and  ran  olT  to  get  a  specimen. 

"Dandy,"  said  the  peddler,  smacking  his  lips  and 
winking  a  well  protected  eye.  "How  much  can  you 
pick  me  of  those?" 

"We  have  sixty  trees  full  of  those  apples." 

"Good,  I'll  take  ten  barrels  a  week  from  you,  if 
you  let  'em  go  cheap." 

"We  haven't  anything  cheap,"  said  Mr.  Liton. 
"They're  good;  you  will  have  to  give  us  what  they're 
worth.  We  can  get  a  number  of  dealers  to  take  them 
all  and  do  their  own  picking." 

"I'll  give  you  two-fifty  apiece." 

"No,  you  won't." 

"For  takin'  ten  barrels  a  week?  I  got  to  make 
something  on  them?" 

"Shall  we  let  him  have  them  for  two  seventy- 
five?" 

"Sure,"  cried  the  peddler.  "They  ain't  worth 
more!" 

It  was  decided  that  he  be  given  them  for  two 
seventy-five  a  barrel,  and  the  peddler  rode  off  with 
his  load. 

Mr.  Liton  called  Michael  aside. 

"Michael,"  he  said,  "I  have  a  hundred  and  fifty 
dollars  in  cash  and  I  want  you  to  go  to  the  city  and 
deposit  it." 

"All  right." 

Michael  went  ofT  to  the  village  and  the  rest  of 
the  boys  were  detailed  to  the  different  work  to  be 
done  that  day.  The  potatoes  were  to  be  treated 
against  a  possible  multiplication  of  a  single  potato 
bug  discovered;  the  corn  was  to  be  hoed,  and  a  con- 


292        A    BUNCH    OF    LITTLE    THIEVES 

siderable  amount  of  hay  to  be  cut,  raked  and  cocked. 
With  Mr.  Liton,  Mr.  Rolan,  and  Mr.  Atkins  in  the 
lead,  the  different  sized  boys  went  to  their  appro- 
priate jobs,  and  the  girls  began  the  house-cleaning, 
with  Miss  Britter,  in  spite  of  protests,  glad  to  help. 

The  breakfast  dishes  were  washed.  Every  room 
in  the  house  was  swept  with  a  vacuum  cleaner,  and 
the  whole  place  made  spotless.  When  through,  the 
girls  were  pretty  tired,  and  Mother  Atkins  told  them 
to  go  to  the  hammocks  and  rest  until  eleven  o'clock. 

"Let's  go  out  and  see  them  making  hay,  shall 
we?"  asked  Miss  Britter. 

"Sure,  and  take  them  something  to  drink." 

"Where  is  Gabriel?"  asked  Bessie,  a  stout,  stubby 
girl  of  about  fifteen,  looking  at  Marguerite  and 
making  her  blush  and  protest. 

"He's  gone  to  the  village  to-day.  Evangeline's 
heart  is  not  on  making  ale  for  the  haymakers.  'Ga- 
briel is  gone!'  " 

"They're  all  Gabriels  to  me,"  she  replied,  decid- 
ing that  that  was  a  much  better  attitude  to  take. 

Marguerite  and  Bessie,  one  on  each  side  of  Miss 
Britter,  were  seated  on  the  hammock,  while  the  other 
five  girls  sat  near  them  on  the  grass. 

Bessie  was  a  very  serious  little  girl  of  fifteen,  who 
looked  more  like  a  woman  of  fifty.  She  was  the 
last  one  brought  to  Tower  Hill,  but  had  in  the  short 
year  that  she  had  been  there  acquired  a  few  good 
habits,  a  little  youth,  and  a  reddish  tint  in  her  cheeks. 
She  was  picked  up,  a  little  mother  to  two  tiny  baby 
sisters,  keeping  house  and  earning  money  at  the 
same  time.  Her  little  sisters  were  taken  to  an  or- 
phan asylum  and  she  herself  was  brought  to  Tower 
Hill.    She  was  quickly  outgro^^'ing  the  evil  stunting 


A    BUNCH    OF   LITTLE    THIEVES        293 

pfi'ects  of  her  former  environment,  and  gaining  the 
attitude  of  healthy  youth,  which  she  had  so  un- 
fairly been  forced  to  pass  over;  but  tliere  were  still 
occasional  moments  when  the  fear  of  being  forced 
to  return  to  her  former  existence  worried  her,  and 
at  those  times  she  would  fall  back  into  the  stupid 
look  of  the  slum  mother,  but  always  the  brighter  ex- 
pression would  conquer  at  the  sound  of  the  childish 
mirth  on  the  part  of  her  happier  playmates. 

Of  the  other  five  seated  on  the  grass,  Gonsuelo 
interested  Miss  Britter  most.  She  was  rather  dark, 
the  type  of  a  Spanish  beauty.  Her  mother  had 
danced  her  life  away  on  the  stage,  and  her  father 
found  more  profit  in  her  early  walking  the  street 
than  in  his  own  labor,  and  so  took  the  advantage, 
until  she  was  arrested  and  sent  to  an  institution 
for  wayward  girls.  At  this  institution  her  life  was 
made  miserable.  They  had  taken  a  swell-dressed 
little  songbird  from  her  fast  existence,  full  of  ex- 
citement, and  during  six  months  of  slavery  attempt- 
ed to  train  her  in  the  profession  of  house  servant. 
Her  rebellion  brought  her  into  heavy  trouble,  and 
she  sought  to  get  the  best  of  the  world  by  commit- 
ting suicide.  She  was  saved  for  the  first  time  in 
her  life,  from  (as  she  had  often  said  herself)  the 
best  thing  she  had  ever  attempted  to  do.  The  judge, 
wiio  took  an  interest  in  her,  told  her  story  to  Mr. 
Liton,  and  asked  whether  he  would  take  her.  Mr. 
Liton  found  her  a  great  study  and  very  hard  to 
influence.  She  had  become  a  cynic,  and  to  her 
there  was  nothing  in  life  worth  living  for;  but  Mr. 
Liton  had  managed  to  get  at  Maguerite's  inherent 
goodness,  and  through  her,  accomplished  what  had 


294        A   BUNCH    OF   LITTLE   THIEVES 

never  been  accomplished  in  Gonsuelo  before.  She 
did  like  Marguerite. 

Gonsuelo  sat  admiring  Miss  Britter;  there  was 
something  about  her  she  liked.  Miss  Britter,  on  the 
other  hand,  for  the  time  being,  worried  about  the 
cynical  expression  that  never  left  the  slightly  shut 
magical  eyes  and  her  tender  little  mouth,  closed 
tight. 

Near  Gonsuelo,  in  a  sleeping  posture,  with  her 
cheek  on  her  right  arm  and  her  eyes  open  and  di- 
rected upon  Miss  Britter,  lay  Sarah,  a  girl  of  four- 
teen. She  had  innocently  followed  her  widowed 
mother  in  the  art  of  shoplifting.  Whatever  her  vices 
and  shortcomings  generally  might  have  been,  one 
virtue  she  possessed.  She  was  immaculate.  Every- 
thing about  her  was  perfectly  clean  and  neat,  and 
her  round,  plumb  little  face  beamed  with  a  con- 
trolled mirth  and  mischievousness. 

Minnie,  Louisa  and  Julia  were  three  little  sisters, 
whose  home  it  was  said  was  incapable  of  proper 
guardianship,  and  who  took  to  Tower  Hill  very 
warmly.  Mother  Atkins  worshipped  them;  they 
were  her  babies,  and  in  turn,  worshipped  her.  These 
girls  were  the  first  to  be  interested  in  making  a  drink 
for  the  haymakers.  They  rushed  into  the  house  and 
prevailed  upon  Mother  Atkins  to  give  them  the  neces- 
sary number  of  lemons  and  amount  of  sugar. 

Miss  Britter  started  up,  and  the  rest  followed.  The 
lemonade  was  made  in  two  large  milk  pails,  and 
they  started  for  the  fields,  four  of  the  girls  carrying 
the  two  pails,  and  the  rest  of  them  each  a  glass. 

"Let's  go  by  the  corn  field,"  said  Marguerite. 
"Some  of  the  boys  are  hoeing  there." 


A    BUNCH    OP   LITTLE    THIEVES        295 

Nine  of  the  smaller  boys  were  hidden  among  the 
leaves  of  the  cornstalks,  making  their  way  down 
the  field,  each  at  one  row  and  all  working  together, 
that  they  might  talk  with  Mr.  Rolan,  whose  head 
alone  was  visible,  and  by  which  they  were  located. 
At  sight  of  the  milk  pails  they  set  up  a  howl  and 
crowded  about  the  welcome  guests. 

''You  fellows  here,  can  have  only  three-quarters 
of  one  pailful,"  cried  Bessie  threateningly,  holding 
down  the  lid  of  the  pail  she  was  in  charge  of  with 
both  hands. 

"I  want  only  one  glass,"  said  Foxy  Willie,  ad- 
monishingly,  adding,  after  she  had  allowed  him 
to  take  one  glassful,  "at  a  time." 

Sarah,  who  admired  Willie  at  all  times,  was  es- 
pecially delighted  with  this  exhibition  of  wit,  and 
laughed  heartily,  while  Bessie,  in  her  usual  mother- 
like  manner,  went  on,  "Is  that  so?  Well,  yes,  if 
your  three-quarters  is  not  all  gone  after  you  have 
all  had  one  glassful." 

Luckily  the  three-quarters  were  not  gone,  and 
like  all  the  others,  he  was  given  a  second  glassful, 
which  he  took,  bowing  with  gratitude,  and  inciden- 
tally pleasing  Sarah  more  than  ever. 

On  the  hayfield  they  came  upon  Mr.  Atkins,  driv- 
ing his  team  of  heavy  horses  hitched  to  a  mower, 
which  filled  the  air  with  the  inspiring  sound  of  the 
blades  as  they  rapidly  flew  in  and  out  among  their 
iron  fingers,  cutting  down  Ihe  thick  fragrant  clover. 
A  strong  boy,  called  Brown,  sat  on  the  seat  of  the 
rake  and  sang  at  the  top  of  his  voice,  driving  a  big 
bony  horse,  and  with  the  power  of  his  right  leg, 
lifted  and  let  fall  the  rakes  behind  him,  gathering 
the  dry  hay  into  long  rolls.    Away  at  the  other  end 


296        A   BUNCH    OF    LITTLE    THIEVES 

of  the  field,  they  could  see  Mr.  Lilon  with  some 
eight  boys,  all  armed  with  forks,  breaking  up  these 
rolls  and  piling  the  hay  into  cocks. 

They  served  Mr.  Atkins  and  Brown  and  started 
for  the  rest  of  the  workers.  How  thirsty  those  boys 
were!  They  actually  fell  upon  the  pails,  and  with 
fervent  apologies,  strove  to  atone  for  their  bad  ac- 
tions while  committing  them,  and  the  lemonade, 
against  all  the  protests  the  girls  could  make,  went  at 
a  most  fearful  rate.  It  was  by  sheer  force  that  Mar- 
guerite saved  Mr.  Liton's  portion.  She  grabbed  the 
pail  and  ran  wilh  it,  and  when  she  was  out  of  reach, 
started  back  slowly,  informing  them  that  Mr.  Liton 
hadn't  had  any  yet,  and  thereby  most  magically 
checking  them. 

They  went  on  making  haycocks,  thanking  the 
girls  for  their  kindness  as  they  worked,  and  invited 
them  pleadingly  to  call  again. 

Gonsuelo  selected  a  very  dry  and  interesting  hay- 
cock, and  after  making  sure  that  there  were  no 
field  mice  there,  fell  upon  it  with  the  remark,  ''This 
is  fine,  I'm  going  to  sleep." 

Some  of  the  other  girls  followed,  and  began  to 
shove  each  other  about  in  an  attempt  to  get  the  best 
place.  Finally  they  compromised  by  giving  Miss 
Britter  the  highest  part  of  the  pile. 

The  three  little  sisters  and  Sarah  began  to  play, 
"Pussy  wants  a  corner"  among  the  many  other  hay- 
cocks. 

"I  could  just  sleep  my  life  away  like  this,"  said 
Gonsuelo,  instinctively  drawing  nearer  to  Miss  Brit- 
ter. 

"Oh,  no  you  wouldn't,"  said  Miss  Britter,  "I'm 
sure  you  wouldn't.    In  a  single  day  you  would  get 


A   BUNCH    OF    LITTLE    THIEVES        297 

tired  of  it  and  would  want  to  run  off  and  stretch." 

"You  get  tired  of  everything,"  she  answered  phil- 
osophically. 

''Yes,  if  you  donl  do  them  the  right  way.  If  you 
set  your  heart  on  something  within  a  few  feet  of 
you  or  so  far  away  that  there  is  no  hope  of  ever 
reaching  it,  you  get  tired  of  everything,  but  if  you 
malie  up  your  mind  to  get  at  things  that  are  great 
and  attainable,  I  mean  things  that  it  is  possible  for 
you  to  accomplish  and  that  will  not  only  give  you 
joy  but  those  about  you  as  well,  you  never  get  tired 
of  doing  that.  You  get  more  pleasure  from  that 
kind  of  work  each  day." 

*'I  think  there  is  great  pleasure  in  helping  other 
people,"  said  Marguerite.  "I  know  that  the  two  or 
three  good  things  I  have  done  to  other  people,  have 
made  me  happier  than  all  the  other  things  I  have 
done  in  all  my  life." 

"Oh,  how  tired  you'd  get  trying  to  help  people," 
insisted  Gonsuelo,  "there  are  so  many  that  need 
help." 

"If  everybody  did  his  share,  there  wouldn't  be 
so  many." 

"But,"  cried  Bessie,  who  seemed  to  have  been 
asleep,  "that's  just  what  we  have  to  do,  as  Mr.  Liton 
said  so  many  times.  We  must  try  to  make  the  world 
better,  so  much  better  that  there  won't  be  anybody 
to  need  help." 

"Mother  Atkins  is  calling  us,"  cried  Minnie,  stop- 
ping the  game. 

Mother  Atkins  was  leaning  out  over  the  narrow 
balcony  of  one  of  the  towers,  waving  her  handker- 
chief. 


298        A    BUNCH    OF    LITTLE    THIEVES 

'1  suppose,"  said  Gonsuelo,  jumping  up  in  re- 
sponse, and  smiling,  "you're  all  right." 

"Look  how  beautifully  you  play  the  piano,"  said 
Marguerite,  paying  no  attention  to  her  last  remark. 

"What  help  my  piano  playing  would  be  to  the 
world.  I  suppose  if  I  worked  very  hard  I  would  be 
able  to  stun  the  world  with  my  genius." 

"I  firmly  believe  that  you  could  become  a  very 
great  player,"  said  Miss  Britter,  "if  you  wanted  to 
badly  enough!" 

"Gome  quickly,  girls,"  said  Mother  Atkins  when 
they  reached  the  house.  "What  will  the  boys  say  if 
we  won't  have  dinner  ready  for  them  when  they 
come?" 

Aprons  dashed  over  dresses,  and  the  kitchen 
was  soon  filled  with  the  sounds  of  voices,  the  sizz- 
ling of  frying-pans,  the  clanking  of  dishes,  and  with 
these  sounds,  the  rising  of  vapors.  The  four  small- 
est girls  were  sent  to  the  strawberry  patch  to  fill 
a  number  of  wooden  boxes  with  all  the  berries  they 
could  pick.  Miss  Britter,  with  Marguerite  and  Gon- 
suelo, then  started  to  fix  the  dining  room.  The  win- 
dow blinds  were  sent  up  as  far  as  they  could  go, 
every  bit  of  furniture  was  carefully  dusted,  the 
tables  were  set,  and  the  conversation  was  continued. 

"You  may  ring  the  bell,  now,"  said  Mother  At- 
kins  an  hour  later,  when  they  were  ready. 

Bessie  pulled  the  rope  hard  and  long.  Glad 
shouts  were  soon  heard — the  youngsters  were  com- 
ing home. 

On  the  ground  floor  of  the  shop,  they  had  built 
a  long,  rather  high  bench,  and  on  this  stood  numer- 
ous enamel  wash  dishes.  Above  each  of  these,  on 
the  wall,  hung  a  towel,  a  looking  glass,  and  an  oil- 


A   BUNCH    OF    LITTLE    THIEVES         299 

cloth  bag,  cunlaiiiing  a  small  brush  and  comb.  All 
the  boys  piled  into  the  room,  yelling,  talking,  laugh- 
ing, or  arguing,  and  the  four  little  girls,  glad  to  see 
them,  stood  in  the  doorway. 

After  dinner,  some  of  the  boys  fell  upon  the 
lawn  to  rest.  Some  got  after  the  day's  newspaper, 
some  read  letters  that  they  had  received,  some  read 
books,  while  some  appropriated  the  hammocks. 
When  their  food  had  been  given  a  chance  to  digest, 
they  were  given  permission  to  go  swimming. 

"When  you  hear  the  bell  ring,"  said  Mr.  Liton, 
"come  back  quickly,  will  you?  I  want  you  to  go 
with  me  and  take  a  few  interesting  pictures  in  the 
hayfield.  You  will  put  on  your  overalls  and  straw 
hats,  those  sombreros  that  you  wore  this  morning, 
and  anything  else  that  will  make  you  look  like  real 
farmers." 

Nothing  pleased  the  boys  more  than  picture-tak- 
ing excursions,  save  perhaps  going  for  a  swim,  so 
that  after  having  put  their  bathing  suits  on,  they 
dashed  away  to  the  pool,  jumping  and  turning  som- 
ersaults, intoxicated  with  delight. 

"I'm  going  for  a  swim  myself,  Liton,  aren't  you?" 
said  Rolan. 

"No,  I'd  rather  not  just  now.  I  want  to  show 
Miss  Britter  about  the  place." 

Mr.  Rolan  went  for  his  swim,  while  Miss  Britter 
and  Mr.  Liton  walked  up  to  the  second  floor  of  the 
two-story  shop  building,  and  into  a  large  room,  oc- 
cupied by  a  dozen  benches,  surrounded  by  pieces  of 
unfinished  furniture  and  all  manner  of  shapes  and 
sizes  and  grades  of  boards.  "You  ought  to  see  this 
place  when  the  boys  are  at  work.    The  banging  away 


300        A    BUNCH    OF    LITTLE    THIEVES 

of  their  hammers,  the  sawing  and  scraping  and 
pounding  is  music  to  me." 

He  then  took  her  to  a  room  back  of  the  shop 
that  was  almost  filled  with  furniture  that  the  boys 
had  made,  and  that  needed  but  little  further  fixing 
up  to  be  ready  for  the  furniture  dealer. 

From  there  they  went  to  the  mysterious-looking 
metal  room,  with  its  many  charcoal  and  gas  burn- 
ers, its  tools  and  work  benches,  and  above  all,  the 
dark  stains  on  the  walls  and  windows. 

"When  does  your  school  open?" 

"Our  school  opens  as  soon  as  we  are  through 
with  the  farm  work." 

"A  boy  or  girl  going  through  this  school,"  said 
Miss  Britter,  "ought  to  be  able  to  get  along  in  the 
world." 

"Yes,  I  think  they  will  be  able  to  get  along  es- 
pecially well.  Although  they  are  taught  definite 
work,  the  aim  in  the  teaching  is  not  to  make  pro- 
fessionals or  tradesmen,  but  all-around,  capable 
moral  men  and  women,  who  will  be  able  to  meet 
the  requirements  of  the  world  when  they  return  to 
it.  Some  will  remain  farmers,  and  others  will  go 
to  photography  or  office  work,  but  all  will  be  able 
to  use  their  brains  and  their  hands." 

They  entered  a  medium-sized  room,  in  which 
were  several  long,  plain  wooden  tables.  Two  doors 
led  to  two  other  rooms.  One  of  the  other  rooms  had 
a  skylight  and  was  fixed  up  as  a  photographic  stu- 
dio; the  other  was  the  dark  room. 

"What  is  this  room  used  for?" 

"For  finishing  their  prints,  and  the  girls  take 
their  sewing  lessons  here." 


A    BUNCH    OF    LITTLE    THIEVES         301 

The  studio  was  a  very  neat  little  room,  with  cur- 
tains and  draperies  of  every  shade  and  color.  There 
were  a  few  artistically  shaped  chairs  and  stools,  a 
platform,  a  movable  fireplace,  a  large  camera  and 
stand,  and  a  number  of  other  strange-looking  ob- 
jects. The  dark  room  was  clean  and  airy,  with 
long  shallow  basins  along  the  length  of  two  of  the 
walls,  over  them  were  faucets,  and  from  under  them 
a  number  of  leaden  pipes  broke  through  the  floor 
to  carry  off  the  surplus  water.  A  number  of  wash- 
ing machines,  drying  racks,  trays,  plate-boxes,  and 
a  vast  host  of  large  and  small  bottles,  were  crowded 
on  shelves  and  in  corners. 

'"We  did  much  more  picture-taking  last  summer 
than  this." 

"Why?" 

'"We  have  so  many  already.  We  have  made 
use  of  a  great  number  ourselves,  and  have  won 
prizes  for  quite  a  few  of  them.  You  see  the  dealer 
can  usually  sell  some  pictures  much  more  easily 
than  others.  There  are  about  twenty  large  prints 
that  seem  to  be  popularly  liked  in  Hilldale,  and  since 
he  keeps  asking  for  them,  and  since  we  can  mal^e 
as  many  prints  as  we  like  from  the  same  plates,  we 
just  save  time  by  not  taking  any  more  for  selling 
purposes.  If  we  get  an  interesting  idea  we  go  out. 
To-day  I  expect  to  take  something  nice  in  the  hav- 
field."^ 

"They  like  to  take  pictures?" 

"Just  wild  about  it." 

"I  must  learn  to  take  pictures,  myself." 

"Any  time  that  you  wish  to." 

"What  have  you  in  the  second  tower?"     Miss 


302        A   BUNCH   OF   LITTLE   THIEVES 

Britter  asked  when  they  were  in  the  court  yard 
again.  "That  has  been  worrying  me." 

"The  second  tower,  if  you  please,  is  my  sanctum 
sanctorum.  There  lie  documents  of  infinite  value 
to  me.  There  I  have  my  diary,  which  I  have  kept 
since  this  school  was  opened." 

"When  may  I  take  a  peep  up  there?" 

"After  you  have  been  here  for  a  few  months; 
when  you  have  made  up  your  mind  as  to  the  char- 
acter of  each  of  them,  you  may  go  up  there,  lock 
yourself  up,  and  see  what  I  have  had  to  say  about 
them.  There  you  will  learn  what  a  struggle  it  has 
all  been.  How  I  have  had  to  work  to  develop  the 
different  personalities  you  see  walking  about  and 
doing  their  work.  There  you  will  read  about  my 
temporary  failures  and  final  victories — the  disap- 
pointments I  have  sufi'ered  and  the  rewards  I  have 
enjoyed." 

"Can't  I  even  look  in  there,  now?" 

"You  can  look  into  the  room,  if  you  want  to, 
but  there  is  nothing  of  interest  in  the  room  itself. 
It  is  exactly  like  the  room  in  the  other  tower,  only 
that  instead  of  a  couch  I  have  a  desk,  instead  of 
the  telescope,  I  have  a  typewriter,  and  instead  of 
pictures  of  the  planets  I  have  photographs  of  chil- 
dren." 

The  bell  rang.  The  bathers  returned,  rushed  up 
the  stairway  and  into  their  rooms,  and  soon  after 
came  down  again,  dressed  in  their  overalls  and  wear- 
ing their  large-brimmed  straw  hats,  each  boy  and 
girl  carrying  his  or  her  own  little  camera. 

It  was  four  o'clock  when  they  returned  from  the 
hayfield.  The  cameras  and  the  exposed  plates  and 
films  were  left  in  the  photographic  dark  room  to 


A   BUNCH    OF   LITTLE    THIEVES        303 

be  developed  next  day,  and  then  everyone  returned 
to  his  work.  Mr.  Rolan,  with  his  set  of  boys,  made 
for  the  potato  patches,  while  Mr.  Liton,  Mr.  Atkins, 
and  their  sets  of  boys  went  back  to  making  hay. 
Mother  Atkins,  Miss  Britter  and  the  girls  had  re- 
mained at  home  to  finish  their  work.  When 
(he  boys  returned  to  the  house  to  put  their  cameras 
away  the  girls  were  out  on  the  lawn  playing  tennis. 
In  an  attempt  to  teach  Miss  Britter  a  certain  stroke. 
Marguerite  stretched  too  far  and  tore  some  part  of 
her  dress.  She  started  at  once  for  her  room  to  fix 
it.  Mother  Atkins  was  sound  asleep  in  her  ham- 
mock, and  she  stepped  lightly  when  she  passed  her. 
There  was  not  a  sound  in  the  entire  house  when  she 
entered,  and  a  peculiar  feeling  came  over  her  as  her 
steps,  light  as  they  were,  creaked  upon  the  stairway. 

Michael  arrived  at  Abolt  on  the  three  o'clock 
train.  A  number  of  people  about  the  station  greeted 
him,  but  he  returned  their  greetings  half-heartedly, 
for  the  excitement  in  his  brain  was  too  great  and 
worked  its  way  out  in  a  flush  upon  his  face.  He 
felt  it,  and  like  any  one  in  those  circumstances,  he 
desired  to  speak  as  little  as  possible,  and  quickly 
made  for  the  road  and  the  ascending  path. 

Strange  discussions  took  place  in  his  mind,  and 
often  the  arguments  against  the  plans  that  a  while 
ago  he  had  felt  to  be  unbreakable  became  so  strong 
that  he  saw  them  in  vague  piles  of  wreckage.  He 
would  then  stop  on  the  road  and  think  harder  and 
deeper,  but  he  found  his  plans  well  laid,  after  all 
the  arguments  were  overturned,  and  the  heat 
of  controversy  sent  him  quicker  on  his  vi^ay.  It 
was  very  quiet  on  the  hilltop.     He  could  hear  the 


304        A    BUNCH    OF    LITTLE    THIEVES 

boys  at  work  in  the  fields  and  the  girls  playing 
tennis. 

He  paused  a  moment  or  two  on  the  porch  to  look 
about,  then  entered  the  hallway  and  made  his  way 
up  the  stairs.  On  the  second  floor,  at  the  end  of 
the  hall,  Mr.  Liton  had  a  desk.  Michael  opened  one 
of  its  drawers  and  dropped  the  bank  book  into  it. 
As  he  turned  to  go  down  again,  he  heard  a  sound  of 
someone  walking  on  the  floor  above  him. 

Marguerite  had  fixed  her  dress  and  was  about 
to  return  to  the  tennis  lawn. 

"Oh,  Marguerite,"  he  cried  on  discovering  it  was 
her.  You  are  just  the  one  I  want  to  see.  Gome  out 
on  the  porch,  I  have  something  very  important  I 
want  to  tell  you." 

"If  they  see  us  together,  they'll  be  having  lots  of 
fun  with  us,"  thought  Marguerite,  but  there  was 
something  about  the  expression  of  his  face  that 
brushed  that  thought  away,  and  she  followed  him. 

They  sat  down  upon  two  rockers,  near  each  oth- 
er, and  he  hurriedly  told  her  of  a  good  fortune  that 
had  fallen  to  his  lot  during  this  one  day's  adventure, 
and  carefully  mapped  out  a  plan  of  action,  to  which 
she  was  to  be  a  partner,  and  which  thrilled  her  girl- 
ish heart  as  girlish  hearts  are  thrilled  but  once  in 
their  lives;  and  when  Mother  Atkins  awoke  and 
called  the  girls  from  the  tennis  lawn,  the  conversa- 
tion was  brought  to  a  close  by  a  hasty  shower  of 
words  of  endearment.  Marguerite  arose,  for  she 
was  still  at  Tower  Hill,  and  Michael  embraced  and 
kissed  her  fervently.  She  responded,  and  then 
rushed  back  into  the  kitchen,  and  he  went  out  on  his 
way  to  the  barn. 


A   BUNCH    OF   LITTLE    THIEVES        305 

Supper  was  made  and  the  haymakers  were  called 
in  from  the  field. 

"Those  who  are  in  favor  of,"  began  Mr.  Liton 
at  the  supper  table,  rising,  from  his  seat,  then  paus- 
ing and  smiling  as  the  curiosity  in  each  mind  forced 
them  to  stare  at  him  and  wait  patiently,  "of — a 
moonlight  hay  ride  tonight,  signify  by — " 

He  did  not  stop  to  take  a  vote  nor  to  designate 
the  manner  of  doing  so,  for  the  noise  that  followed 
was  more  of  a  vote  than  necessary. 

Supper  was  eaten  in  a  great  hurry  and  the  re- 
quired work  after  it,  was  done  with  no  less  im- 
patience. 

Mr.  Liton  started  for  the  barn,  and  Michael,  tak- 
ing the  opportunity,  dashed  after  him. 

"Are  you  very  anxious  to  take  that  ride  to-night, 
Mr.  Liton?" 

"Why?" 

"I  would  like  to  stay  home  and  talk  to  you.  I 
have  many  important  things  I  want  to  tell  you." 

Mr.  Liton  was  slightly  disappointed,  for  he  did 
want  to  go  with  them,  but  such  a  request  from 
Michael  warranted  no  procrastination.  He  merely 
answered,  "All  right  then;  we  will  stay  by  our- 
selves and  do  all  the  talking  we  want  to." 

The  cries  of  the  excursionists,  the  impatience  of 
the  horses  and  the  rumbling  sounds  as  the  racks 
were  pulled  out  and  away,  caused  slight  feelings  of 
regret  on  the  part  of  both  Mr.  Liton  and  his  foster 
son;  but  the  desire  to  hear,  on  the  part  of  one,  and 
the  desire  to  tell,  on  the  part  of  the  other,  dismissed 
this  regret  and  sent  them  up  to  the  second  tower,  to 
Mr.  Liton's  sanctum. 


306        A    BLINGII    OF    LITTLE    THIEVES 

"I  have  so  many  things  to  tell  you,"  began 
Michael,  when  Mr,  Liton  had  seated  himself  in  his 
desk  chair,  and  he  had  drawn  a  rocker  as  close  to 
him  as  possible,  and  had  fallen  into  it,  "I  don't  know 
where  to  begin." 

Mr.  Liton  smiled  but  the  flushed  face  of  Michael 
worried  him. 

"Start  anywhere." 

"Do  you  remember  Dick  Kennen  of  Abolt 
School?" 

"I  think  I  do." 

"He  was  sent  there  a  little  while  after  me.  He  is 
the  boy  that  tried  to  run  away  and  that  Saunders 
kicked  so  hard  that  they  had  to  operate  on  him." 

"Oh  yes,  I  remember  now." 

"I  bought  a  newspaper  while  in  the  city  today, 
and  there  on  the  front  page  was  the  heading,  "Boys 
at  Reform  School  Assault  Guards  and  Escape!"  I 
read  further  and,  sure  enough,  I  found  that  Dick 
Kennen,  with  three  other  boys,  had  turned  on  Bloate 
and  Reilly,  almost  killed  them,  and  escaped.  They 
haven't  been  found  yet,  but  I  know  it  will  go  hard 
with  them  when  they  are  caught,  and  I  know,  too, 
that  they  are  not  to  blame  for  what  they  did.  If 
they  are  sent  to  prison  there  is  no  more  hope  for 
them. 

"Dick  used  to  be  a  good  friend  of  mine.  He  and 
Skinny  Lud,  the  boy  that  died  at  Abolt  before  you 
left,  and  I  used  to  meet  in  a  vacant  lot  near  our  street, 
under  a  rusty  piece  of  tin,  and  there  we  had  a  camp. 
We  used  to  steal  things  to  eat  and  take  them  there, 
cook  them  on  a  Are,  and  have  the  meals  that  we 
couldn't  get  at  home.  Dick  was  a  good  boy.  He 
did  what  he  did,  just  as  I  and  many  others  did  what 


A   BUxXGH    OF   LITTLE    THIEVES        307 

we  did,  because  we  had  to.  We  were  hungry  and 
we  had  no  other  way  of  getting  something  to  eat. 

Dick  was  the  better  boy  of  the  two  of  us.  He 
wasn't  as  mean  and  cranliy  as  I  was.  He  took 
everything  good  naturally  and  laughed  at  it,  that  is 
why  you  and  Miss  Britter  helped  me  out  and  let  him 
go,  but  he  is  a  very  good  fellow,  and  I  am  sure  if 
you  could  get  him  up  here  you'd  make  a  good  man 
of  him." 

Michael  stopped  for  a  reply. 

"I  am  afraid  it's  going  to  be  very  hard.  You 
see  he  is  much  older  than  you  were  when  I  got  you 
away  from  Abolt,  and  his  ofTense  is  a  very  bad  one. 
I  mean  the  authorities  will  not  be  apt  to  excuse  it." 

"Can't  it  be  shown  that  I  was  really  worse  than 
he,  but  that  decent  treatment  got  me  to  see  matters 
differently,  and  that  had  they  been  treated  right 
they  never  should  have  done  that?  Can't  it  be  shown 
how  terribly  they  treat  the  boys  there?  Can't  we 
show  that  Bloate  and  Reilly  are  brutes?  Couldn't 
we,  say  Ernest  and  I,  go  to  court  and  testify?" 

"I'll  tell  you,"  said  Mr.  Liton  after  a  few  moments 
of  silent  thinking,  "suppose  you  get  together  with 
Ernest  and  Jack  and  let  Ernest  write  up  a  speech 
that  will  tell  all  that.  He  has  a  wonderful  power  of 
expressing  himself  in  words  on  paper,  and  you  can 
talk  much  better  than  he  can.  Let  him  draw  up  the 
speech,  and  you  learn  it.  The  three  of  you  can 
think  of  a  great  many  things  about  Abolt,  I  mean 
to  show  why  Reilly  and  Bloate  are  brutes,  and  I  will 
make  for  the  city  to-morrow,  get  a  lawyer,  and  de- 
mand a  trial  for  them,  if  they  are  caught,  already. 
The  lawyer  can  arrange  for  your  telling  your  story." 

Michael's  excitement  was  great. 


308        A   BUNCH   OF   LITTLE   THIEVES 

"When  I  come  back,"  Mr.  Liton  went  on,  "I  can 
look  over  what  Ernest  has  wrtten,  and  advise  you  as 
to  changes,  if  any  are  necessary." 

"There  is  something  else,  I  want  to  tell  you  about 
to-night,"  Michael  began  again,  hesitatingly. 

"What  is  that?" 

"On  my  way  back  from  the  city,  I  met  a  man  who 
has  a  large  estate  in  the  Adirondack  mountains.  He 
has  five  children,  who  he  said  were  not  getting  good 
education  because  the  teachers  they  get  there  are 
fellows  who  have  had  nothing  more  than  a  country 
school  education.  Sometimes  he  said  they  can't 
even  get  a  poor  teacher.  He  said  that  he  would  be 
willing  to  pay  out  of  his  own  pocket  to  add  to  the 
salary  that  the  district  gives  if  he  could  get  a  good 
teacher.  After  having  a  long  talk  with  him,  he  said 
he  would  like  to  have  me  go  there  and  teach  for 
them.  The  district  pays  eight  dollars  a  week,  and 
he  is  willing  to  add  four." 

"You  want  to  leave  Tower  Hill?" 

"No,  I  hate  to  leave  Tower  Hill,  but  there  is  some- 
thing else." 

"What's  that?" 

"Marguerite  and  I  have  decided  that  we  would 
like  to  work  together  the  rest  of  our  lives.  W^e  want 
to  marry.  We  would  like  to  go  out  there,  get  some 
experience  in  teaching,  and  come  back  and  help  you 
in  this  kind  of  work." 

"Why  couldn't  you  stay  here  and  do  the  same?" 

"We  feel  kind  of  funny  about  it.  We  wouldn't 
stay  away  more  than  a  year.  It  would  be  different 
then.     It  would  give  us  a  chance  to — " 

"I  understand  perfectly — you're  quite  right,  I 
donl  blame  you  at  all.    I  think  it  would  be  better. 


A    BUNCH    OF    LITTLE    THIEVES        309 

Give  you  a  ciiaiice  lo  see  llio  world  by  yourselves. 
You  can  come  back  afterwards;  perhaps  by  that 
time  I  will  be  able  to  start  another  school  like  this, 
and  you  can  help  me.' 

He  stretched  his  hand  out  to  him  and  Michael 
grabbed  it  and  kissed  it.  "Here's  to  your  future 
happiness  and  usefulness  to  those  who  are  as  good 
as  we  are,  but  whose  chances  are  so  much  poorer 
that  they  go  wrong.  Remember  Michael,  if  any- 
thing ever  goes  wrong,  I  am  here  of  service  to  you, 
and  even  if  I  can't  help  you,  I  can  think  things  over 
with  you." 

"I  have  no  reason  for  ever  keeping  anything  from 
you,  Mr.  Liton,"  said  Michael,  and  because  he  could 
not  express  himself  in  words,  Michael's  eyes  were 
dimmed  with  tears. 

The  sound  of  happy  voices  came  in  on  the  breeze 
and  grew  more  distinguishable  as  the  wagons  came 
nearer,  until  they  could  hear  the  strains  of  "Home, 
Sweet  Home."  The  wagon  wheels,  rattling  up  and 
down  the  knobby  roads  and  through  the  echoing 
woods,  brought  the  sleepy  revelers  to  the  gateway, 
and  the  two  rushed  down  to  meet  them. 


CHAPTER     IV 

ANOTHER  TRAGEDY  AT  ABOLT 

Dick  Kennen,  Sam  Phelps,  Louis  Tifton,  and 
Manuel  Rogers  had  prolonged  their  terms  at  Abolt 
by  attempting  several  escapes.  After  what  they 
termed  as  a  dog's  age  of  waiting  for  their  parole, 
on  the  very  same  day,  each  received  a  yellow  piece 
of  paper,  on  which  the  Superintendent  of  Abolt 
School  claimed  the  honor  to  inform  them  that  they 
had  earned  their  parole. 

They  were  all  four  called  into  the  office,  where 
they  were  surprised  to  find  their  parents  waiting 
for  them  with  suit-cases  in  their  hands.  They  were 
ordered  to  put  on  the  clothes  that  had  been  brought 
to  them  in  the  suit-cases  and  to  leave  those  they  had 
been  wearing.  It  was  an  exciting  bit  of  work  and 
was  done  joyously. 

Mr.  Krammer  stood  over  the  little  door,  on  the 
other  side  of  which  they  were  dressing,  and  watched. 
It  was  one  of  the  Superintendent's  policies  not  to 
allow  a  boy  about  to  be  paroled  to  see  any  of  the 
teachers  or  his  fellow  inmates  before  leaving,  and 
the  boys  had  not  been  informed  of  having  earned 
their  parole  until  they  were  brought  into  the  office 
and  asked  to  change  clothes.  As  it  happened,  a 
slight  oversight  on  his  part,  he  was  sending  away  a 
completely  organized  clique. 

Superintendent  Krammer  escorted  them,  together 
with  their  parents,  to  the  gate  of  the  institution 
grounds,  shook  hands  with  each  of  them,  and 
rattled  off  a  formula  regarding  honesty  and  virtue, 
which  he  had  repeated  so  many  times  that  it  became 


A    BUNCH    OF   LITTLE    THIEVES        311 

a  matter  for  his  second  brain,  and  which  they  were 
entirely  too  excited  to  hear,  even  if  it  would  have 
meant  anything  to  them. 

The  parents,  each  thinking  that  his  or  her  son 
was  the  best  of  the  lot  and  liable  to  be  tainted  by  the 
companionship  of  the  others,  tried  to  get  them  off 
alone,  and  succeeded  only  after  they  had  exchanged 
their  addresses.  At  home  they  continued  the  mis- 
trust of  their  son's  companions  and  warned  them 
against  their  having  anything  to  do  with  each  other. 
But,  aside  from  their  friendship,  born  of  a  forced 
fellowship  in  bitter  surroundings,  wrought  into  un- 
breakable ties  by  common  suiTering,  their  neighbors' 
sons  looked  upon  them  as  stained  boys  and  refused 
to  make  friends  with  them.  They  soon  found  each 
other  and  continued  their  former  companionship. 

It   was    a    matter    of   two    months.     Dick    and 

Manuel  were  still  without  jobs,  while  Sam  Phelps, 

working  at  his  acquired  trade  as  a  plumber's  helper, 

and  Louis  Tifton,  employed  as  a  clerk  in  a  grocery 

store,  found  themselves  drudging  away  twelve  hours 

a  day  and  half  of  Sunday,  and  contemplated  relief. 

One  night,  at  ten  o'clock,  they  met  at  a  corner, 

since  not  one  of  their  homes  was  available  for  such 

a  meeting,  and  talked  matters  over;  and  there  was 

not  a  person  to  hold  them  back  when  they  started 

down  a  dark  street  with  a  definite  purpose  and  plan. 

Next  morning  they  did  not  have  to  rise  early  and 

prepare  for  work,  but  were  called  by  a  jail  warden 

and  treated  to  a  prison  breakfast.     The  newspapers 

informed  the  public  that  four  boys,  just  released 

from  a  reformatory,  had  broken  into  the  closed  home 

of  a  principal  who  was  awny  for  the  summer,  and 

looted  it. 


312        A   BUNCH    OF   LITTLE   THIEVES 

Not  a  thing  was  said  about  what  forced  them  to 
do  it,  nor  what  their  purpose  was;  nor  did  any  judge 
look  for  that  information.  They  had  violated  their 
parole  and  were  shipped  back  to  Abolt  and,  without 
formal  or  informal  greetings,  were  incarcerated  into 
Father  Bloate's  Cottage  One. 

A  year  went  by  without  much  of  importance 
transpiring,  and  then  it  happened  one  day  that  Dick 
and  Sam  were  ordered  to  take  several  wheelbarrows, 
full  of  ashes,  from  the  kitchen  to  the  other  side  of 
the  power  house  and  dump ;  and  as  they  turned  over 
the  fifth  load,  being  protected  by  the  power  house 
from  an  officer's  guard,  Dick  sat  down  upon  the 
handles  of  the  barrow  and  began  to  vituperate  the 
Colonel,  with  whom  he  had  clashed  on  numerous 
occasions  during  the  week.  The  Colonel  happened 
to  be  talking  to  the  engineer  at  the  time,  and  catch- 
ing the  sound  of  boys'  voices  from  their  direction, 
walked  up  to  a  window  and  looked  out,  heard  what 
they  had  to  say,  then  turned,  walked  out,  stole  along 
the  wall,  listened  more,  and  when  he  thought  he  had 
heard  enough,  suddenly  jumped  out  upon  them. 

"Get  up!"  Colonel  Reilly  demanded  of  Dick,  and 
when  Dick  arose  shivering  with  fright,  the  Colonel 
struck  him  upon  the  mouth  and  knocked  him  down. 

Dick  cried,  and  his  lips  covered  with  blood, 
showed  the  desire  to  fight  back.  Colonel  Reilly 
struck  him  again,  then  demanded  that  he  take  the 
barrow  and  go  about  his  work,  which  he  could  not 
help  but  do. 

At  five  o'clock  that  afternoon  the  boys  were  as- 
sembled in  the  long  dining  room  talking  away  as 
noisily  as  ever.  Father  Bloate,  who  had  been  wait- 
ing for  an  opportunity  to  speak  to  the  Colonel  pri- 
vately, caught  him  alone  in  the  vestibule. 


A   BUNCH    OF   LITTLE    THIEVES        313 

"Say,"  he  whispered,  "I  think  I  have  discovered 
a  plot.  I  think  Kennen  and  a  fev^^  others  at  my 
cottage  are  going  to  try  to  escape  to-night." 

"Want  me  to  lock  'em  up?" 

"I  am  not  sure  who  the  fellows  are.  I  think  a 
few  of  them  will  try  it." 

"I'll  watch  with  you  to-night." 

"Good." 

The  sun  was  setting  beyond  the  great  hill  toward 
the  West,  and  some  of  the  boys  who  looked  in  the 
direction  of  the  two  towers  said  to  themselves,  "Mr. 
Liton  is  there.' 

The  late  afternoon  and  evening  caused  the  same 
duties  to  be  performed  that  had  made  part  of  the 
routine  since  the  institution  was  born,  and  its  popu- 
lation, like  a  distant  race,  lived,  changed,  and  passed 
away,  and  at  ten  o'clock  the  lights  went  out. 

They  waited  until  eleven,  when  everything  wafi 
quiet,  then  pulled  out  their  Sunday  suits,  which  had 
been  cleverly  brought  into  the  dormitories  and 
hidden  under  the  mattresses,  put  them  on,  made 
their  ropes  of  sheets,  and  one  after  the  other  slid 
down.  Sam  Phelps,  the  last  of  the  four  to  get  on  the 
window  sill,  heard  Colonel  Reilly  and  Father  Bloate 
glide  out  through  the  door  and  attack  the  three 
already  down,  and  saw  how  his  comrades  became 
mad  with  fright  and  made  use  of  the  heavy  sticks 
they  had  hidden  in  the  flower  beds.  He  almost  lost 
his  reason  when  he  heard  Dick's  club  come  down 
upon  the  Colonel's  head  with  a  crash  that  sent  him 
to  the  ground,  and  saw  Father  Bloate  run  for  his 
life;  but  there  were  no  amends  to  make.  The  only 
hope  lay  in  escape,  and  they  dashed  for  the  woods. 


CHAPTER    V 

A  LIVING  PLEA  AND  LIVING  EVIDENCE 

How  often  fate  in  weaving  the  thread  of  its 
tragedies  starts  in  a  given  circle  of  points;  touches 
them  in  all  their  acts;  fastens  its  hold  upon  the 
actors,  and  sends  or  drags  them  with  burning  enthu- 
siasm or  despair,  time  after  time,  over  the  same 
beaten  ways,  to  glory  or  to  ruin. 

The  great  railroad  station  was  as  noisy  as  ever, 
and  the  many  ants  swarmed  busily  about  the  ant- 
hill, for  eternity  was  not  yet  ended.  Another 
crowd  awaited  another  arrival  of  another  train,  and 
again  some  rushed  to  meet  those  they  expected  to 
see  and  others  went  on  with  familarity. 

From  the  second  car  of  that  train  three  men 
stepped  down,  and  behind  them,  coming  from  the 
fourth  car,  a  man,  a  woman,  and  a  young  man  fol- 
lowed, and  all  were  making  for  the  dirty,  gloomy 
children's  court.     A  trial  was  to  be  concluded. 

This  was  not  to  be  an  exciting  trial.  There  were 
no  accomplished  murders  to  be  tried,  and  no  clever 
manoeuvres — no  disgusting  beastliness  to  be  re- 
vealed. The  crowd  in  attendance  was  therefore 
small,  and  the  newspapers  were  disinterested.  Yet 
four  boys  shivered  under  the  sword  of  doom,  and  be- 
fore them  the  gates  of  a  prison  were  opened  wide  to 
swallow  them  as  soon  as  the  formalities  were  over. 

They  stood  huddled  together  on  a  little  platform 
and  waited  for  proceedings  to  terminate  in  their 
dreaded  doom,  though  they  had  no  definite  ideas  as 
to  just  what  that  doom  might  be — they  feared  it, 


A    BUNCH    OF   LITTLE    THIEVES        315 

because  it  was  the  unknown,  nor  slopped  to  think 
that  "use  lessens  marvel,"  that  prison  horrors  grow 
tame  upon  one  and  like  opiates,  become  a  necessity. 

The  horrified  and  dignified  Mr.  Krammer  stood 
not  far  away  and  stroked  his  significant  beard,  as 
if  the  whole  world  had  done  his  gentle  soul  an  in- 
justice. Near  him  stood  the  haughty  Colonel  Reilly, 
his  power  and  importance  greatly  injured  by  a 
bandage  about  his  head,  and  between  the  two,  look- 
ing small  but  important,  winced  the  ideal  cottage 
father,  Bloate,  apparently  anxious  that  prison  justice 
be  meted  out  to  them. 

Then  suddenly  the  counsel  for  the  defense  intro- 
duced an  interesting  number  of  the  programme,  and 
caused  the  eyes  of  the  Superintendent  of  Abolt,  the 
man  of  over  twenty  years  of  experience  to  sparkle, 
caused  him  to  stroke  more  nervously  his  well- 
groomed  beard. 

A  young  man,  who  knew  that  platform  and  that 
bench  through  bitter  experience,  walked  up  the  few 
steps  and  faced  the  judge,  the  witnesses,  and  the 
audience. 

A  silence  followed  for  a  few  moments,  and 
Michael,  adjusting  himself  nervously  to  the  differ- 
ence between  this  court  and  the  one  he  was  more 
used  to  on  Tower  Hill,  having  been  informed  that 
he  is  to  tell  his  story  from  beginning  to  end,  took  a 
deep  breath  and  began: 

"Your  Honor,  four  years  ago  I  stood  on  this  plat- 
form to  answer  to  charges  of  stealing.  That  was 
the  fourth  time  that  I  had  to  answer  to  the  same 
charges,  and  some  people  said  that  it  was  in  me  to 
steal  and  that  I  should  be  sent  away. 


316        A   BUNCH    OF   LITTLE   THIEVES 

"I  was  living  at  the  time  in  the  city's  shims,  and 
my  widowed  mother  and  consumptive  brother 
earned  just  enough  to  half  feed  themselves  with  poor 
food.  Outside  of  that  they  didn't  even  have  half 
enough  to  feed  me  with.  I  had  to  steal  to  get  what 
kept  me  alive.  One  of  the  defendants  there,  Dick 
Kennen,  another  little  fellow  whom  Abolt  School 
has  reformed  forever  with  the  aid  of  death,  and  my- 
self stole  co-operatively.  We  would  get  what  we 
could  and  feed  on  it  in  the  corner  of  a  fenced-in 
vacant  lot  some  distance  from  our  homes. 

"I  was  sent  to  Abolt  School  to  be  reformed.  Your 
Honor,  I  know  in  my  heart  of  hearts  that  we  stole 
because  we  were  hungry,  and  for  no  other  reasons. 
From  being  hungry  for  mere  bread  one  can  rise 
to  possess  a  hunger  for  potatoes,  and  on  up  to  such 
things  as  satisfy  the  soul. 

"On  that  vacant  lot,  Dick  was  the  better  boy  of 
the  two  of  us.  I  grew  bitter  and  hated  everybody. 
He  always  carried  with  him  a  little  good  nature, 
and  I  wish  to  show  the  court  that  it  was  that  very 
good  nature  in  him  that  makes  him  a  defendant  and 
me  his  defender. 

"I  came  to  Abolt  School.  The  first  step  in  my 
reformation  was  accomplished  by  the  nurse  that  was 
there  at  that  time.  Because  I  did  not  know  any- 
thing about  saluting  him,  he  gave  me  a  dose  of  the 
worst  chemical  combination  that  was  ever  invented 
by  a  brutal  mind,  and  he  called  it  "Loafer's  Mixture." 
It  made  me  very  sick,  not  only  in  body  but  in  mind. 
I  hated  him  with  all  the  passionate  hatred  of  which 
I  was  capable.  I  was  under  his  care  for  two  weeks 
and  had  it  been  two  weeks  more  I  should  have  been 
brought  here  on  charges  of  murder.    After  those 


A   BUNCH    OF    LITTLE    THIEVES         317 

two  weeks  I  was  placed  in  a  cottage  with  thirty-two 
other  boys,  in  charge  of  a  cadet  that  was  given  the 
authority  to  beat  his  fellow  boys  with  a  stick  or  kick 
them  whenever  any  of  tliem  did  not  obey  him  in- 
stantly. Mr.  Bloate  himself  would  never  talk  to  us 
as  if  we  were  children,  ordering  us  about  as  if  wo 
were  dogs;  and  after  his  day  off  he  would  come 
back,  drunk,  and  we  then  sufTered  indescribably." 

The  judge  was  resting  his  head  on  his  right 
hand,  his  elbow  on  his  desk.  The  last  sentence 
startled  him.  He  looked  up  at  Superintendent 
Krammer  with  the  two  men  beside  him  and  then 
returned  to  his  former  position. 

Michael  went  on :  "Then,  one  day,  for  not  dash- 
ing to  the  wash  basin  just  as  quickly  as  he  wanted 
me  to,  Cottage  Father  Bloate  struck  me  on  the  mouth 
with  his  fist,  cutting  my  lip  and  breaking  one  tooth. 
I  resented  it  and  for  doing  so  Mr.  Reilly  grabbed  me 
by  the  shoulder  on  coming  into  the  dining  room  and 
told  me  to  sit  down  on  the  middle  of  the  dining  room 
floor.  I  was  ashamed  to  do  so  before  three  hundred 
boys  and  my  teachers,  and  for  begging  him  not  to 
make  me  do  that,  Mr.  Reilly  dragged  me  out  into  the 
vestibule,  and  there,  with  a  heavy  stick,  beat  me  in- 
sensible. 

"When  I  awoke  again,  I  found  myself  in  one  of 
the  coops,  prison  cells  that  they  have,  handcuffed 
to  a  board,  with  every  square  inch  of  my  body  a 
swollen  wound.  I  still  have  the  scars  on  my  body 
and  will  show  them  to  the  court  if  your  honor  wishes 
me  to." 

The  Judge  made  no  answer  and  Michael  went 
on: 


318        A   BUNCH   OF   LITTLE    THIEVES 

"I  hated  everybody,  and  there  was  not  a  soul  that 
I  would  have  trusted.  It  was  only  when,  in  spite 
of  my  sulky  way  of  answering.  Miss  Britter  spoke  to 
me  kindly  that  she  made  me  doubt  my  bitter  con- 
clusions and  made  me  hope  for  some  kind  of  relief. 

"Instead  of  bothering  my  wounded  heart  with 
arithmetic,  Miss  Britter  told  me  the  story  of  David 
Copperfield,  how  he  suffered  so  much  and  came  out 
victorious  in  the  end,  and  let  me  read  the  book;  and 
for  the  first  time  in  my  life  I  began  to  feel  that  there 
is  a  something  in  this  world  that  was  not  against  me 
— something  that  is  beautiful  and  worth  fighting  for. 

"Then  Mr.  Liton  came  along  and  started  a  repub- 
lic and  made  me  a  representative  of  a  cottage.  Like 
Miss  Britter,  he  took  an  interest  in  me  because  I  was 
bitter.  Dick,  who  was  by  that  time  quite  familiar 
with  the  ways  of  Abolt  School,  was  too  good- 
natured  to  rebel.  He  took  matters  as  they  were  and 
tried  to  be  happy,  and  was  therefore  left  to  the  mercy 
of  the  institution.  After  I  had  worked  with  Mr. 
Liton  a  number  of  weeks  and  he  led  me  into  discus- 
sions and  the  writing  of  compositions  for  the  maga- 
zine, I  began  to  see  the  visions  of  a  new  life  and  a 
new  world,  and  I  determined  to  migrate  there;  but 
the  moment  Mr.  Liton  and  his  friends  left,  the  place 
was  turned  into  a  hell,  and  all  the  flames  that  had 
been  lit  within  me,  I  had  to  put  out  myself.  My  life 
for  the  next  few  months  was  unbearable,  and  young 
as  I  was,  I  planned  suicide. 

"I  was  standing  near  the  flag-pole  one  late  after- 
noon and  saw  the  sun  going  down  behind  the  old 
monastery  towers,  and  a  thought  came  into  my 
mind.     I  resolved  to  escape  that  night  and  try  to  get 


A   BUiXCH    OF    LITTLE    THIEVES         319 

to  those  towers,  for  I  knew  that  Mr.  Liton  had  a 
school  of  his  own  there, 

''My  plans  were  well  made  and  I  got  away,  and 
as  I  vaguely  hoped,  Mr.  Liton  prevented  their  taking 
me  back. 

"Your  honor,  had  Dick  been  the  hating  spirit 
that  I  was,  some  one  would  have  interested  himself 
in  him,  and  perhaps  he  would  not  be  in  this  court 
to-day. 

"At  Abolt,  they  always  called  us  a  Bunch  of  Little 
Thieves,  and  I  tell  you  that  sentence  falls  heavily 
upon  any  boyish  heart,  I  don't  care  how  bad  people 
think  he  is.  It  fell  so  heavily  on  mine  that  I  hate 
them  for  it  yet,  though  Mr.  Liton  has  taught  me  to 
forgive. 

"Just  a  few  more  words,  your  honor.  I  was 
much  worse  than  poor  Dick  ever  was ;  if  he  had  had 
half  the  chance  I  did,  he  would  be  a  saint.  I  am  no 
saint,  nor  am  I  half  an  angel,  but  from  the  midst  of 
a  hopeless  Bunch  of  Little  Thieves  I  have  come  to 
be  among  the  class  of  human  beings  who  see  that 
some  things  are  very  wrong  in  this  world,  and  who 
are  anxious  to  sacrifice  their  strength — yes,  and  even 
their  very  lives — to  help  make  that  world  better. 

"I  appeal  to  you  to  save  these  boys,  who  have 
had  no  chance  in  this  world,  not  on  the  day  they 
were  born  nor  since,  not  even  the  late  coming 
cliance  that  I  have  gotten." 

He  stepped  down  and  joined  Mr.  Liton. 

"Dick  Kennen,  Sam  Phelps,  Manuel  Rogers,  and 
Louis  Tifton,"  called  the  judge,  "stand  up.  You  are 
guilty  of  a  grave  offence,  but,  in  view  of  the  able 
defence  of  your  comrade,  I  will  suspend  your  sen- 
tence.    You  are  to  go  with  Mr.  Liton  and  remain 


320        A   BUNCH   OF   LITTLE   THIEVES 

with  him  while  you  behave  yourselves  and  no 
longer. 

"Your  friend  has  made  me  feel  that  you  have  not 
been  given  a  chance.  I  will  give  you  that  chance 
now.  If  years  go  by  and  you  show  that  you  can  do 
the  right  thing,  your  offence  and  your  sentence  will 
be  forgotten. 

"This  court  stands  adjourned." 


CHAPTER    VI 

ABOLT  SCHOOL  AND  TOWER  HILL 

The  four  grateful  young  men  were  taken  to 
Tower  Hill,  fed,  given  a  reception,  and  sent  to  work 
with  the  others.  They  soon  discovered  that  doing 
the  right  thing,  was  not  in  formula  alone,  the  most 
profitable;  that  a  much  greater  amount  of  pleasure 
was  to  be  gotten  by  doing  what  was  right;  and  to 
surpass  their  wildest  dreams,  instead  of  losing  their 
liberty  as  a  sacrifice,  they  had  fallen  heir  to  all  the 
freedom  any  soul  could  desire. 

Two  weeks  after  the  episode  that  brought  them  to 
this  veritable  boys'  heaven,  an  automobile  drove  up 
on  the  grounds  of  Tower  Hill.  Three  gentlemen 
were  in  it  and  asked  to  see  Mr.  Liton. 

They  shook  hands  with  him  when  he  came  from 
the  fields  in  his  overalls,  and  asked  whether  they 
could  see  the  four  boys  whom  the  court  had  given 
to  his  care. 

"Julia,"  called  Mr.  Liton,  and  in  response  came 
a  little  girl  from  the  hallway.  She  was  all  excited 
from  having  been  running,  and  with  a  sweet  girlish 
expression  on  her  face,  after  wiping  off  some  of  the 
round  beads  of  perspiration,  v^^ished  to  know  what 
he  wanted. 

"Will  you,  like  a  good  girl,  go  to  the  cornfield 
and  tell  Mr.  Rolan  to  send  the  four  new  boys  up 
here  at  once?" 

Julia  started  off  on  a  run. 

"Do  you  trust  them  out  to  work  alone?"  asked 
one  of  the  gentlemen. 


322      .  A   BUNCH    OF    LITTLE   THIEVES 

"Yes,  sir,  I  make  my  home  so  dear  to  them  that 
you  can't  drive  them  away.  I  believe  that  that  is 
much  safer  than  watching  them.  I  have  had  no 
escapes  since  I  came  here,  almost  four  years  ago." 

The  men  expressed  their  admiration  and  asked 
if  they  could  look  through  the  place. 

"Certainly.  You  are  welcome  to  see  everything 
that  is  here." 

The  four  boys  arrived,  dressed  in  their  overalls, 
slightly  worried  as  to  what  might  follow.  But  they 
were  soon  assured  that  nothing  was  going  to  happen, 
and  after  the  visitors  had  looked  at  them  several 
times  and  smiled  and  looked  at  each  other,  they 
were  sent  back  to  work;  and  Mr.  Liton  took  the  men 
through  the  house,  barn,  and  shop. 

"Mr.  Liton,"  began  one  of  the  men,  when  they 
had  seen  all  they  wanted  to,  "we  are  the  new  board 
of  directors  of  Abolt  School,  and  we  have  come  here 
to  ask  you  to  accept  Mr.  Krammer's  position.  Mr. 
Krammer  and  all  of  his  help  that  you  may  wish  to 
get  rid  of,  will  go  as  soon  as  you  can  come  and  fill 
the  positions  that  will  be  made  vacant." 

Mr.  Liton  smiled. 

"That  wouldn't  mean  that  you  would  have  to  let 
this  school  go  at  all.  With  an  automobile  you  can 
go  from  one  to  the  other  in  a  few  minutes." 

Through  Mr.  Liton's  mind  flashed  a  succession 
of  beloved  pictures.  He  could  see  the  miniature 
plateau,  the  concrete  cottages  in  the  moonlight,  or 
in  a  rain  storm,  the  lawns,  the  gravel  walks,  with 
their  whitewashed  stones,  the  farm,  the  roads,  the 
valleys,  and  the  ruins  of  the  dilapidated  old  house 
upon  which  one  could  rebuild. 


A   BUNCH    OF   LITTLE   THIEVES        323 

"Are  yoii  willing  to  accept  that  position?" 

"You  say  I  can  substitute  the  kind  of  teachers  I 
want  for  the  kind  that  are  there,  if  after  seeing  them, 
I  deem  that  necessary?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"You  will  be  willing  to  pay  good  salaries  that 
will  attract  good  teachers?" 

"As  far  as  we  are  able." 

"And  you  will  let  me  get  at  those  boys  in  what- 
ever way  I  please  and  think  necessary,  if,  at  least, 
I  convince  you  that  that  way  is  best?" 

"If  we  didn't  have  confidence  in  your  methods  we 
never  should  have  come  here." 

"Then  I  accept." 

"When  can  you  begin?" 

"In  two  weeks." 

"Good,  we  shall  come  for  you." 

They  shook  hands  again  very  cordially,  and  the 
automobile  took  the  road  to  Abolt  and  disappeared. 

"Miss  Britter,"  cried  Mr.  Liton  when  he  was  alone 
again. 

"Who  were  they?" 

"Miss  Britter,  you  are  speaking  to  no  less  a  per- 
sonage than  the  Superintendent  of  Abolt  School,  and 
I  have  the  honor  of  addressing  his  Assistant." 

"Julia,  you  run  to  the  cornfield  again  and  call 
Mr.  Rolan  and  Michael,  and  the  rest  of  the  boys. 
Wait  a  minute,  ring  the  bell  a  long  time  first;  that 
will  call  all  of  them." 

"Michael,"  he  cried,  as  soon  as  the  latter  arrived, 
"I  am  to  be  the  Superintendent  of  Abolt  School." 

Michael  did  not  know  what  to  make  of  it. 

"Now  tell  me,  which  would  you  rather  be,  a 
teacher  in  the  Adirondacks  or  a  cottage  father  with 


324        A   BUNCH    OF   LITTLE   THIEVES 

Marguerite  as  the  cottage  mother,  at  Abolt  School?" 

"The  newcomer's  cottage,"  cried  Michael,  beside 
himself  with  joy,  "don't  forget." 

Mr.  Rolan,  followed  by  his  boys,  and  Mr.  Atkins 
and  his  boys,  came  upon  the  hill  top  to  join  the 
crowd,  and  Mother  Atkins  and  the  rest  of  the  girls, 
hearing  the  racket,  with  dishes  in  their  hands, 
rushed  out  and  completed  the  family  gathering. 

"Children,"  said  Mr.  Liton,  slowly,  "I  have  been 
asked  to  be  the  Superintendent  of  Abolt  School." 

Mr.  Rolan  pulled  the  broad-brimmed  farmer's  hat 
off  his  head  and  waving  it  in  the  air,  cried,  "Come, 
everybody,  three  cheers  for  Abolt  and  its  Bunch  of 
Little  Thieves!" 

And,  as  the  sun  lowered  down  in  the  West,  and 
the  boys  at  Abolt  were  looking  at  it,  and  the  two 
towers  in  back  of  which  it  sank,  the  cheers  that 
followed  shook  the  whole  world,  if  what  the  little 
fellows  about  Mr.  Liton  said  were  true;  and  of  all 
who  cheered  the  four  newcomers  were  the  loudest. 

END 


AFTERWORD 

"So  when  they  continued  asking  him, 
he  lifted  up  himself,  and  said  unto  them,. 
He  that  is  without  sin  among  you,  let  him 
first  cast  a  stone  at  her. 

"And  they  which  heard  it,  being  con- 
victed by  their  own  conscience,  went  out 
one  by  one,  beginning  at  the  eldest  even 
unto  the  last:  and  Jesus  was  left  alone, 
and  the  woman  standing  in  the  midst. 

"When  Jesus  had  lifted  up  himself,  and 
saw  none  but  the  woman,  he  said  unto  her, 
woman,  where  are  those  thine  accusers? 
hath  no  man  condemned  thee? 

"She  said  no  man,  Lord,  and  Jesus  said 
unto  her.  Neither  do  I  condemn  thee:  go 
and  sin  no  more." 

"A  study  of  the  homes  and  famihes  of  these 
children  shows  much  more  clearly  than  any  tables 
of  statistics  how  easily  poverty  in  itself  brings  these 
children  to  the  court.  It  is  not  merely  by  such  di- 
rect means  as  stealing  fuel  from  the  tracks,  or  sleep- 
ing under  a  house  to  escape  the  discomforts  of  an 
over  crowded  home,  that  poverty  brings  its  children 
into  court.  When  we  see  all  the  wide  background 
of  deprivation  in  their  lives,  the  longing  for  a  little 
money  to  spend,  for  the  delights  of  a  nickel  theatre, 
for  the  joy  of  owning  a  pigeon,  or  for  the  glowing 
adventure  of  a  ride  on  the  train,  it  is  not  hard  to 
understand  how  the  simple  fact  of  being  poor  is 
many  times  a  sufriciont  explanation  of  delincpiency." 
— Breckinridge  and  Abbott,  in  "The  Delinquent  Child 
and  the  Home." 


326        A   BUNCH    OF    LITTLE   THIEVES 

"The  delinquent  commits  almost  all  kinds  of  of- 
fenses, but  most  of  them  are  comparatively  trivial 
and  the  rest  largely  indicate  environmental  source. 
Not  more  than  6  per  cent,  indicate  abnormality. 
Probably  not  more  than  1  or  2  per  cent,  of  them  are 
the  actions  of  children  criminal  by  nature." — Dr. 
Thomas  Travis,  in  the  "Young  Malefactor." 

"A  really  inferior  child,  an  inherently  vicious  or 
imbecile  child,  or  one  who  could  not  be  much  im- 
proved by  better  food  and  hygienic  surroundings  is 
a  very  rare  exception." — Hrdlicka,  47th  Report  of  the 
N.  Y.  J.  A. 

"If  once  in  a  while  they  act  more  like  little  devils, 
the  opportunities  we  have  afYorded  them,  as  I  have 
tried  to  show,  hardly  give  us  the  right  to  reproach 
them.  And  yet,  looking  the  hundreds  of  boys  in  the 
Juvenile  Asylum  over,  all  of  whom  were  supposed 
to  be  there  because  they  were  bad  (though  as  I  had 
occasion  to  ascertain,  that  was  a  mistake — it  v>^as 
the  parents  who  were  bad  in  some  cases),  I  was 
struck  by  the  fact  that  they  were  anything  but  a 
depraved  lot." — Mr.  Jacob  A.  Riis,  in  "Children  of 
the  Poor." 

"The  majority  of  criminals  are  not  born,  but 
made — and  ill  made.  They  can  be  remade  as  easily 
as  the  'River  Front  Gang'  was  remade  if  we  would 
use  the  methods  of  Christianity  on  them  and  not 
those  of  a  fiendish  paganism  that  exacts  'an  eye  for 
an  eye'  and  exacts  it  in  a  spirit  of  revenge." — Judge 
Ben  Lindsey,  in  the  "Beast." 

"And  yet  the  boy  murderers  are  of  the  same  clay 
as  the  rest  of  us,  but  environment  has  moulded  it 
differently,  that's  all." — New  York  City  Asst.  Dis- 
trict Attorney  Frank  Moss. 


A   BUNCH    OF    LITTLE   THIEVES        327 

"He  is  a  victim  of  environment  that  is  breeding 
social  disease  to  which  the  community  shuts  its 
eyes.  Deprived  of  opportunity  for  normal  develop- 
ment, he  becomes  a  criminal  without  knowing  it." 
— Ernest  K.  Coulter,  Clerk  of  the  New  York  Chil- 
dren's Court. 

"Investigation  of  the  lives  of  reform-school  boys 
always  leaves  the  impression  that,  with  possibly 
few  exceptions,  they  are  quite  representative  of  the 
average  active,  normal  boy,  and  the  investigator 
usually  ends  his  work  with  the  overwhelming  con- 
viction that,  after  all,  probably  the  only  reason  why 
he  and  his  boyhood  associates  did  not  graduate  from 
the  same  sort  of  an  institution  was  the  difference  in 
their  environment." — Professor  Edgar  James  Sivift, 
in  "Mind  in  the  Making." 

Professor  Swift  then  goes  on  telling  of  a  most  in- 
teresting questionnaire  which  was  sent  to  a  large 
number  of  teachers,  lawyers,  students,  merchants, 
and  ministers  asking  them  (in  effect)  whether  in 
their  childhood  they  had  committed  any  of  the  var- 
ious crimes  for  which  children  fdl  the  reforma- 
tories. It  is  impossible  to  quote  more  than  a  very 
small  fraction  of  the  answers  received.  We  will 
just  quote  a  few  and  hope  that  the  reader  will  refer 
to  Professor  Swift's  "Mind  in  the  Making"  for  the 
rest. 

He  says  in  part:  "The  most  serious  offense  with 
which  the  questionnaire  dealt  was  stealing  money. 
The  subject  was  divided  into  two  parts,  taking 
money  from  parents  and  employers. 

"About  one-fourth  of  the  teachers  said  that  tak- 
ing money  from  their  parents  was  a  more  or  less 
common  occurrence.    One-half  of  the  students  and 


328        A    BUNCH    OF    LITTLE    TPIIEVES 


about  two-thirds  of  llio  luiscellanoous  group  made 
the  same  admission.  A  good  number  had  no  chance 
but  are  sure  that  they  would  not  have  hesitated  had 
opportunity  ofTered. 

"I  stole  money  in  small  amounts,  usually  fifty 
cents  at  a  time,  from  the  cash  drawer  of  my  father's 
store  whenever  I  wanted  it.  (Teacher.) 

"I  used  to  keep  part  of  the  change  when  I  was 
given  money  to  buy  things  for  the  family.  I  saved 
up  twelve  dollars  in  this  way  to  redeem  a  pledge 
for  the  payment  of  a  bill  about  which  my  parents 
knew  nothing.     (Student.) 

"I  took  money  whenever  chance  offered.  (Stu- 
dent.) 

"Once  I  took  as  much  as  five  dollars.    (Teacher.) 

"I  took  as  much  money  as  I  thought  would  not 
be  missed,  usually  fifty  cents  or  a  dollar.  Once 
or  twice  I  took  larger  sums,  according  to  what  I 
wanted  to  get  with  it.     (Merchant.) 

"When  a  close-fisted  employer  refused  to  let  me 
have  my  clothes  at  cost,  I  pocketed  enough  of  his 
change  to  bring  my  clothes  down  to  cost  mark. 
(Student.) 

"I  appropriated  to  my  own  use,  without  paying 
for  them,  toilet  articles  and  other  things.  (Minister; 
at  time  referred  to,  he  was  employed  in  a  drug 
store.)" 

The  great  difficulty  in  the  reformation  of  the  "bad 
boy"  is  the  overcoming  of  the  ignorance,  corruption, 
and  immorality  that  often  festers  in  the  institution 
management.  The  reader  is  referred  to  the  occa- 
sional expose  of  such  institutions  in  the  newspapers 
— occasional  only  because  iniquity  wears  armor, 
burrows  in  the  dark,  and  looks  pure  and  virtuous 
by  daylight. 


A   BUNCH    OF   LITTLE   THIEVES        329 

"I  found  lliot  some  of  the  police  were  guiUy  of 
cruelties  to  the  boys,  used  language  to  them  that  is 
unreportable,  and  unconsciously  taught  the  boys 
to  hate  the  law  and  look  upon  us  all  as  their  ene- 
mies. Several  boys  complained  to  me  that  they  had 
been  beaten  by  the  jailer,  and  I  found  on  investiga- 
tion that  they  had ;  and  prisoners  that  had  seen  them 
beaten  testified  to  it. 

" He  declared  that  the  boys  were  liars, 

that  I  was  'crazy'  and  that  conditions  in  the  jails 
were  as  good  as  they  could  be.  This  reply  was 
exactly  what  we  wished.  I  demanded  an  investiga- 
tion. The  board  prefessed  to  be  willing  but  set  no 
date.  We  promptly  set  one  for  them — the  follow- 
ing Thursday  at  two  o'clock  in  my  chambers  at  the 
Court  House — and  I  invited  to  the  hearing  Governor 
Peabody,  Mayor  Wright,  fifteen  prominent  ministers 
in  the  city,  the  Police  Board  and  some  members  of 
the  City  Council. 

"On  Thursday  morning — to  my  horror — I  learned 
from  a  friendly  Deputy  Sheriff  that  the  subpoenas 
I  had  ordered  sent  to  a  number  of  boys  whom  I 
knew  as  jail  victims  had  not  been  served.  I  had 
no  witnesses.  And  in  three  hours  the  hearing  was 
to  begin," — Judge  Ben  Lindsey  in  the  "Beast." 

"The  State  is  often  as  incompetent  as  the  worst 
parents  in  its  dealings  with  the  young  offender. 
This  when  we  remember  that  some  parents  train 
their  children  to  crime  seems  like  rhetorical  lan- 
guage. But  many  of  the  men  most  closely  in  touch 
with  correctional  methods  will  agree  to  the  state- 
ment that  the  State  is  manufacturing  criminals  as 
fast  as  it  can  with  its  limitations. 

"In  the  police  court  it  is  no  uncommon  sight  to 
see  the  court  room  so  crowded  with  children  tliat 
there  is  not  enough  time  to  finish  their  cases  that 


330         A    BUNCH    OF    LITTLE    THIEVES 

day.  Yet  this  is  attempled.  In  five  minutes  liie  de- 
cision is  made  which  starts  the  child  on  a  new 
career.  Tlie  writer  has  seen  over  eighty  cases  of 
children  decided  by  a  judge  in  one  session  of  the 
court  lasting  from  9  A.  M.  to  2  P.  M.  No  careful 
student  would  think  of  classifying  a  case  in  ten 
minutes,  and  yet  this  judge  decides  the  fate  of  a 
boy's  whole  existence  and  does  it  in  less  time  and 
attention  than  the  ordinary  woman  takes  to  buy  a 
roll  of  wall  paper, 

"In  case  a  boy  is  sent  to  a  'reformatory'  it  is 
largely  chance  if  his  lot  falls  in  a  really  good  en- 
vironment. No  matter  how  ivcll  equipped  such  an 
institution  may  be  and  no  matter  how  well  inten- 
tioned  the  superintendent,  if  that  overseer  has  not  a 
personality  amounting  to  genius  the  reformatory 
will  be  a  vast  machine  which,  though  it  permanently 
cure  50  per  cent,  of  those  who  ought  not  to  be  there, 
will  unfailingly  brand  and  deepen  the  rest  in  delin- 
quent life. 

"In  every  correctional  and  eleemosynary  insti- 
tution belonging  to  the  state,  from  the  children's 
court  up,  the  unfortunate  influence  of  mercenary 
politics  is  seen.  Incompetent  officials  are  put  in 
power.  Wardens  who  are  ignorant  of  their  duties 
are  put  over  hundreds  of  convicts.  Grace  Johnson 
reports  politics  as  endangering  the  promising  work 
of  the  state  agent  of  Minnesota.  Evan  a  chaplain 
can  not  be  chosen  without  the  interference  of  poli- 
tics. Governor  Odell  is  accused  of  attempting  to  put 
the  reformatory  at  Elmira  at  the  mercy  of  'plum 
seekers.'  Fetter  at  Cornell  gives  a  list  of  such  cases 
and  cites  as  an  example  a  commissioner  of  charities 
with  no  previous  training  appointed  as  a  reward  for 
political  services.  The  same  was  attempted  in  Brook- 
lyn and  the  judge  was  so  bound  by  politics  that  he 
had  to  appoint  the  ofTice  seeker  to  draw  the  salary 


A    BUNCH    OF   LITTLE    THIEVES         331 

and  a  phikin'hropic  person  to  do  the  work.'' — Dr. 
Thomas  Travis  in  the  "Young  Malefactor." 

The  following  quotations  are  from  The  New  York 
Gall  of  Dec.  30,  1911.  The  writer  possesses  a  copy 
of  the  article,  which  was  an  expose  of  the  conditions 
in  a  "well  kept"  reformatory.  A  copy  of  the  article, 
together  with  affidavits  testifying  to  its  veracity,  is 
also  on  file  at  the  office  of  a  state  board  of  charities. 
This  article  consists  of  four  long  columns  of  charges, 
and  is  too  long  to  reproduce  in  full  here. 

"BOYS  BEATEN  AND  KICKED.— 'The  cries  of 
the  boys  still  rings  in  my  ears,'  one  of  the  women 

who  resigned  told  a  reporter  yesterday. 

'Scarcely  a  morning  passed  without  one  or  more 
beatings,  administered  with  rubber  hose  or  bamboo 
sticks,  by  the  superintendent  or  his  assistant^  Mr. 
'■ —  and  Mr. . 

"  'There  was  the  case  of  I 

shall  not  give  you  his  name  because  his  parents  are 
even  now  ignorant  of  the  cruelties  which  the  boy 
has  endured.    He  had  been  unruly  for  some  reason 

and  dragged  him  down  to  the  basement 

and  beat  him  until  the  boy's  shrieks  rang  through 
the  whole  building.    Fearing  that  the  boy  miglit  be 

beaten  to  death,  's  wife  rushed  down  and, 

throwing  herself  on  her  knees  begged  him  to  stop. 
Finally  his  wife  threw  herself  upon  him  and  by 
pinioning  his  arms  forced  him  to  stop. 

"  'The  boy  complained  to  the  superintendent.  He 
was  sent  to  the  coop,  a  cheerless  attic  room  where, 
handcuffed,  he  lay  on  the  bare  mattress  on  the  floor 
until  released.    He  pronijitly  ran  away,'  "  etc. 

"It  is  also  charged  that  the  new  and  well  equipped 
hospital  was  ostentatiously  kept  empty,  although 
there  were  always  boys  in  need  of  hospital  treat- 
ment; this  in  order  to  impress  visitors  with  the  ex- 


332        A    BUNCH    OF    LITTLE    THIEVES 

tromoly  lieallhy  condition  of  the  school.  The  boys 
who  should  have  been  confined  there  were  in  the 
meantime  dosed  in  the  basement  of  one  of  the  cot- 
tages, where  a  nurse  ran  a  so-called  dispensary.  The 
teachers  unite  in  attributing  at  least  one  case  of 
death  to  this  neglect. 

"  'On  November  6,'   said  a  teacher,   'a  boy  of 

eleven,  by  name  of was  brought 

to  the  ofTice  by  his  father,  who  was  visiting  him 
that  day,  and  who  requested  that  the  child  be  sent 
to  the  nurse  for  treatment,  as  he  appeared  to  be 
feverish  and  complained  of  pains  in  the  chest.  I 
promised  to  inform  the  assistant  superintendent. 
This  official  gruffly  instructed  me  to  send  the  boy 
to  drill,  as  usual,  after  which  he  would  be  attended 
to.  It  was  bitter  cold  that  day  and  the  boy  protest- 
ed that  he  hadn't  the  strength  to  carry  the  gun,  so  I 
appealed  for  him  again,  backing  it  up  with  an  ap- 
peal from  the  cottage  father,  all  without  avail,  how- 
ever. The  boy  was  compelled  to  go  through  the  en- 
tire drill.  That  night  the  child's  fever  rose  so  high 
that  on  my  own  responsibility  I  called  a  physician. 
He  reported  that  it  was  merely  a  slight  cold.  The 
next  day  the  fever  showed  no  signs  of  abatement 
and  the  male  nurse  was  called  upon  to  attend  to  him. 
Several  times  when  I  entered  the  attic  where  he  was 
confined  I  heard  his  shrieks,  "Oh,  don't  hit  me.  I 
can't  carry  that  gun."  The  nurse  remained  utterly 
unmoved  by  the  child's  suffering.' 

"  'This  lasted  for  two  days,  the  boy  remaining 
neglected  in  the  attic  of  a  cottage,  while  the  bright, 
well-equipped  hospital  stood  conspicuously  empty. 
But  when  it  became  evident  that  the  child  was  sink- 
ing rapidly,  he  was  removed  to  the  hospital  and  his 
parents  called  from  the  city.  They  came  in  time 
to  witness  his  death  struggles.  The  mother  went 
stark  mad.' 


A   BUNCH    OF   LITTLE   THIEVES        333 

''But  perhaps  the  worst  feature  of  the  institution, 
according  to  the  statements  of  several  of  the  teach- 
ers who  resigned,  is  that  Superintendent 

retains  as  attendants  men  and  women  known  to  be 
immoral  and  exercising  a  corrupting  influence  on 
the  boys." 

The  following  quotations  from  an  article  in  the 
Philadelphia  Times  of  February  20,  1913,  give  an 
account  of  an  expose  of  a  similar  institution. 

THREE  RESIGN  AS  PROTEST 

Dr. ,  resident  physician  at  the 

Schools,  his  wife,  head  nurse  at  the  institution, 

and  her  assistant  have  resigned  from  their  respective 
positions  at  that  institution,  because  of  the  failure 

of  Superintendent  ■ to  carry  out  medical 

orders  or  recommendations. 

The  triple  resignation  came  after  sensational 
charges  of  cruelty  to  the  boy  inmates  of  the  schools 

made  by ,  of street, 

father  of  the  lad  released  by  the  ofTicials  of  the  insti- 
tution after  a  fight  lasting  several  months. 

The  boy's  right  foot  is  flat  and  his  right  leg 
is  apparently  shorter  than  the  left.  When  he  entered 
the  hospital  on  June  24  he  was  physically  sound.  In 
fact  he  had  previously  won  a  marathon  race  from 

avenue  to for  boys  under  16 

years  of  age.  It  would  be  torture  for  the  lad  to 
run  a  yard  at  present. 

He  is  unable  to  walk  up  steps  without  grasping 

a  railing  and  literally  pulling  himself  up.    Dr. 

, 's  father  and  mother  and  his  playmates 

at  the  school  are  authority  for  the  statement  that 
when  he  entered  the  hospital  there  on  October  11, 
1912,  to  undergo  an  operation  for  appendicitis  lie 
was  not  lame.    Dr. further  says  that  when 


334        A   BUNCH    OF   LITTLE   THIEVES 

the  boy  was  discharged  from  the  hospital,  December 
11  or  12,  1912,  he  was  not  lame. 

VICIOUS  BRUTALITY  CHARGED.— On  January 
3,  1918,  according  to  the  boy,  he  was  kicked  in  the 

spine  by ,  an  official  at . 

He  fell  to  the  ground  and  was  unable  to  rise.     He 

says  stood  by  and  laughed  at  him.     Later 

Dr.  's  daughter  called  the  physician's  at- 
tention to  the  fact  that  the  boy  had  a  pronounced 
limp.    The  boy  says  he  limped  from  the  time  he  was 

kicked  by . 

Prior  to  this,  the  day  after 's  release  from 

the  hospital,  and  while  still  in  a  convalescent  con- 
dition, he  says  that ,  instructor  in  tail- 
oring, struck  him  in  the  head,  grabbed  him  by  the 
ear  and  threw  him  to  the  ground,  at  the  same  time 
punching  him  in  the  side  over  the  scar  left  by  the 
appendicitis  operation.    While  the  boy  was  on  the 

ground,  he  says,  kicked  him  twice  in  the 

back. 

The  resignations  of  Dr.  and  Mrs.  and 

Miss and  the  release  of  the boy  were 

preceded  by  a  secret  meeting  of  certain  members 
of  the  committee  on  admission,  indentures  and  pro- 
bation.   The  members  present  were , 

president  of  the  schools; , 

, and . 

********* 

Mr. says  that  the  "monitor"  of  trustie  sys- 
tem used  at is  responsible  for  many  of  the 

numerous  injuries  to  inmates.  Under  this  system 
he  declares  boys  have  been  so  badly  beaten  that  they 
have  become  insane.     He  says  there  is  one  boy  at 

least  in  the Asylum  as  the  result  of  beatings, 

and  another  in  an  asylum  at  — ' . 

The  boy  now  at  the Hospital  for  the  Insane 

at ,  according  to  33— j^  is  named .  When 

'he  was  admitted  to  '-,  — says  he  "had 


A   BUNCH    OF   LITTLE    THIEVES         335 

eczema.    A  boy  named is  the  one  sent  to  the 

Insane  Asyhim,  asserts. , 

a  monitor  in  cottage  No.  12,  caused  the  injury  which 
made  insane,  according  to ,  by  strik- 
ing him  in  the  head,    says has  stabbed 

another  boy  and  is  greatly  feared  by  the  lads  in  less 

favor  with  the  officials. 

********* 

When  called.  Dr.  submitted  his  hospital 

records,  which  show  that  boys  were  brought  to  him 
with  blackened  and  swollen  arms,  resulting  from 
prolonged  exercise.  This  is  known  as  the  "pumping 
punishment,"  according  to  young . 

The  records  also  show  cases  of  boys  being 
stabbed  and  others  being  beaten,  while  during  the 

two  years  and  a  half  Dr.  was  in  charge  of 

the  hospital  at  the  institution  there  were  nine  at- 
tempts at  suicide.    Mrs. ,  the  physician's  wife, 

who  was  head  nurse,  told  of  finding  one  boy  hang- 
ing by  a  bed  sheet  tied  about  his  neck.  She  also 
told  of  cases  of  frozen  feet  due  to  boys  having  been 
forced  to  scrub  tlie  basement  in  cold  weather  with- 
out shoes. 

The  physician  was  not  questioned  as  to  numer- 
ous other  cases  of  alleged  cruelty  which  came  under 
his  notice,  among  them  injuries  resulting  from 
beatings,  partial  starvation  and  undue  punishment. 

"Truth  is  often  stranger  than  fiction."  In  telling 
what  has  been  or  might  be  accomplished  in  the 
reformation  of  delinquents  the  truth  seems  so 
strange  to  most  of  us  that  we  hesitate  in  believing 
it.  Yet  all  who  have  made  a  genuine  attempt  have 
the  same  strange  tales  to  tell.  As  time  goes  on  and 
civilization  becomes  less  of  a  sham,  these  strange 
tales  will  become  more  numerous  and  finally  so 
numerous  that  they  will  lose  their  strangeness. 


336        A   BUNCH    OF   LITTLE    THIEVES 

"When  I  first  told  one  of  our  deputy  sheriffs  that 
in  the  future  I  should  send  boys  to  Golden  without 
him,  he  said  to  my  clerk :  'Well,  I've  always  heard 
Lindsey  was  crazy,  but  I  never  believed  it  till  to-day!' 
And  when  a  hardened  young  criminal  went,  from 
my  court,  250  miles  to  Buena  Vista  reformatory 
alone,  and  presented  himself  at  the  gates  of  the 
prison,  'the  sentry'  (as  I  was  afterwards  told)  'al- 
most fell  off  the  walls.'  " — Judge  Ben  Lindsey  in  the 
"Beast." 

Of  all  the  strange  tales  that  might  be  told  here, 
the  life  of  Owen  Kildare  as  told  by  himself  in  "My 
Mamie  Rose,"  is  perhaps  the  strangest  as  well  as 
most  illuminating.  Bereft  by  environment  of  par- 
ents and  all  the  influences  for  good  in  the  lives  of 
other  children,  he  was  born  to  a  life  on  the  Bowery. 
He  became  a  skilful  thief,  a  loafer,  idling  around  sa- 
loons and  dives,  and  a  prize-fighter.  His  habits, 
thoughts  and  desires,  were  the  habits,  thoughts  ana 
desires  of  the  very  lowest  stratum  of  society.  And 
yet,  a  few  kind  words  from  the  lips  of  a  little  girl, 
a  school  teacher  in  his  neighborhood,  whom  he  had 
suddenly  taken  the  notion  to  defend  from  the  abuse 
of  his  comrades,  fell  upon  him  with  a  most  irre- 
sistible force  and  finally  led  him  to  a  place  among 
the  very  highest  members  of  his  race. 

"No  shamefaced  outcast  ever  sank  so  deep 
But  yet  might  rise  and  be  again  a  man." 


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